A Nightmare Fantasmic
by The Mustachioed Academic
Summary: When prostitute Carmel Ocean ends up at Arkham Asylum, she never imagined how drastically her life would change as she becomes tangled in the Master of Fear's latest plot. Rated M just to be safe.
1. Chuck Grey

Disclaimer: I (obviously) do not own the rights to any Batman characters in this work. I only own Carmel, Chuck, and any other made up characters throughout the story.

* * *

I guess that I have Batman to thank. It was him, after all, that put this crazy series of events into motion. Of course, it was not like he was trying to make a positive change in my life, but he did nonetheless.

Alright, let's get this out of the way first. I was a prostitute. Damn good one, if I do say so myself. Girl's got to make a living any way she can in the shithole known as Gotham City. So yeah, it was inevitable that I ran into the criminal underworld quite a bit. And that's exactly what got me into trouble.

I was on a job at the Royal Hotel when I met the Batman for the first time. Charles "Chuck" Grey was my client for the night, and I was hoping that this was going to be a good cash night for me. You see, I had been told that he was a lieutenant in one of Gotham's gangs, so I assume that he was loaded. Anyways, he had thrown me against the door of his room as we were making out. He quickly got my shirt off, and was making quick work on my bra. Before he finished, though, he stopped to reach for his key. Next, he slipped the card into the door and we headed into his room, shutting the door behind us. But we were sure in for a surprise, as Batman was sitting in a chair, waiting for us.

"Fuck, it's the Bat!" Chuck yelled. He reached for the door, but his hand was hit by a batarang before it could reach the knob.

Batman moved towards Chuck, pushing me out of the way onto a bed. With one slick move, Batman had him by the neck, raised off the ground. "Let's talk. About Black Mask. Where is he?" Batman barked.

"I don't know…what you're…talking about!" was all Chuck able to get out.

"Don't lie to me. Or I'll break every bone in your body!"

It appeared that the threat was enough to get him to talk. "Okay, okay. I know he's running out of a warehouse down in Chinatown! That's all I know, I swear!"

"Good." Batman took Chuck and smashed his head against the door, knocking him out cold. He then turned to me.

"I could just take my money and leave right now and pretend I didn't see anything," I offered. Sensing that was unlikely, I went ahead and put my shirt back on.

Batman walked over to me, slowly and menacingly. Suddenly, he pulled batcuffs out of his utility belt. "Prostitution is a crime," was all he said as he cuffed me to the bed.

"I always thought you must be into kinky stuff," I shot back.

He merely glared at me. He then pressed a button on his wrist comlink. "Cash, I've got two people for you to pick up at the Royal Hotel, Room 995."

"Any leads on Black Mask?" the voice of Aaron Cash asked.

"Got one now. A warehouse in Chinatown. I'm on my way." With that, Batman threw open the window and dove out.

 _He certainly knows how to make an exit_ , I thought.

About twenty minutes later I was in a car and on the way to the police station with Chuck.

"Where…where am I?" he asked as he regained consciousness in the car.

"We're in a police car. They're taking us down to the station," I told him.

"Shit. You didn't make it out?"

"Batman cuffed me to the bed," I replied.

He nodded. After a pause for thought, he continued on, "Ever been to jail before, kid?"

"Can't say that I have."

"Then you're in for a treat. I'll show you the ropes, sweetheart."

"How kind." _Actually, I'll probably need some help._

Soon we were at the police station, getting booked. "Says your name is Carmel Ocean. That right?" a cop asked me.

"You got it, handsome," I answered, trying to be as sweet as I could be. _He probably gets this a lot_ , I realized. He didn't even respond, confirming my thought. I watched as he filled out a form detailing my information, gleaned from my driver's license. _Shit, my car's going to be parked at the hotel for a long time. Hope they won't notice._

Age: 24

Height: 5'7"

Weight: 144lb

Hair Color: Blonde

Eye Color: Green

"Those numbers aren't exactly accurate. I'm like 139 pounds now," I explained to the cop, trying to get some sort of reaction from him. He only glared at me and finished filling out the form. The cop then took my fingerprints and mugshot and confiscated my purse, which included my phone and keys.

"Alright, you're all set. Off to Arkham with you," the cop told me.

"Arkham? I'm not insane!"

"All new prisoners are being sent to Arkham after the fires at Blackgate," said the policeman.

Now that he mentioned it, I did remember hearing in the news of said fires. A few days ago, there had been a breakout at Blackgate and part of the prison ended up being set on fire. Black Mask had been reported as the one behind the breakout. _Of course. That's why Batman was looking for Black Mask,_ I realized.

I was then escorted to another police car, where I found Chuck waiting for me.

"One more ride together, huh?" he asked.

I however, was not having any of that cheerful shit. "You seem to be unfazed that we're going to Arkham Asylum?"

"Meh. I've been there several times. Once you get the hang of the place, it becomes pretty easy to navigate."

"How have you been there? You're not insane."

"Arkham has the best security, sweetheart. The city's been putting dangerous, but sane, criminals there for quite some time."

I remained silent for a while, trying to comprehend the events that had happened over the last hour. But after some time, Chuck began again, giving me the most important information he had given yet.

"There's one thing you should know. In Arkham, there's only one way to survive. And that's by joining one of the big guns."

"What do you mean?"

"Arkham houses the worst of the worst. All of the serial killers and rapists that you could think of. The guards…they don't care what happens to you. If someone dies, it's just one less mouth to feed."

"How lovely."

"In order to keep yourself safe, you'll need to be under the protections of one of the supervillains. That's the only way."

"Gang protection? I don't buy it."

"If you don't want to end up lying on the ground being penetrated in every orifice, you'll do it," was his grim response.

I laughed, thinking he was joking, but his face remained solemn. The seriousness of his previous statement told me that he wasn't lying, and that protection is something that I would actually want. "Fine, I'll just join you in Black Mask's gang."

He laughed. "It's not that simple, dollface. Black Mask doesn't take women in his crew."

I shot him a look. "You've got to be kidding me."

"Nope. Everyone has their own requirements for their gangs."

Sighing loudly for emphasis, I continued, "If that's the case, I'll join the Joker's team then."

Once again, he laughed. "Lady, you are hopelessly naïve."

* * *

The next half-hour was really a blur for me. Apprehension sunk in as we came closer to and then arrived at the Asylum. I was escorted in and brought to a waiting area. I had to fill out some forms and, I think, a psychological test. Someone mentioned that I was here for six months, which didn't seem too bad at the time. I had to wait some more, but I'm not sure for what.

Finally, I was brought into a room where a security guard was waiting for me. On the table was an ankle bracelet, and he immediately set to work to putting that on.

Once it was all set up and calibrated, he said to me, "You're all set now."

I looked at him confused. "Don't I need my prison jumpsuit?"

The guard laughed. "Nope. Here at the Asylum we don't really care that much about apparel. Forcing them to change into jumpsuits might anger some of the more…unstable inmates. So we don't bother."

Suddenly, I wished that I wasn't wearing such a low cut shirt and short of skirt. _Of all the nights to be arrested, it had to be with this outfit._ Having nothing snarky to say, I let him lead me off without another word.

The guard took me deep into the facility and then down an elevator. He then escorted me down a few hallways, until finally we reached a cell door.

"Good luck," the guard told me, and then unlocked the cell door. I stepped in and he locked the door behind me. "Choose wisely," I heard him say as he walked away.

I was on my own now.

I wandered through the halls, trying to find the room that Chuck had told me to head to. Prisoners roamed the area, eyeing me as I went by. I was determined not to make eye contact with anyone. Finally, I found the room I was looking for: the recreational room.

The room was huge, full of sofas and pool tables, all having seen better days. The white paint on the wall had peeled pretty badly, adding to the whole decrepit theme. _Well, this looks just lovely._

I didn't have much time to take in the room, though, as my attention instantly focused on the people in the room. Seated around the room were several of some of the most famous criminals that Gotham City had to offer. I tried not to stare, but it was hard not to, because I was basically starstruck to see them.

All activity in the room had stopped after everyone noticed my presence. "Who are you?" a large-muscled thug asked me.

"I'm Carmel Ocean. I'm new here." That was enough to send the thug off. Having heard my answer, several of the villains themselves got up and came over to me. This was the moment that I had prepped for with Chuck. I was now going to choose which supervillain that would become my employer, or at the very least, my protector while I was in here.

The first one to say anything was the Joker. "You would make an excellent clown princess. How would like working for Uncle J?" he asked, with a sickly sweet smile on his face.

However, I was not going to fall for his tricks. Chuck had told me everything I needed to know about the Joker.

" _He doesn't normally take female accomplices. Harley Quinn tends to get jealous. Last girl I knew of that worked for him ended up being tortured and killed by Harley. If I remember correctly, Harley crucified her in an empty tank and then filled the tank up with water to drown what was left of her. Joker thought it was funny, so probably not a great idea to work for him. He usually isn't even around for the selection, but you never know. Stay away from him."_

Before I had a chance to answer, the Penguin stepped in. "No, love, you don't want to work for the clown. You'd like working for me. I can set you right up in the Iceberg Lounge. You'd fit nicely, I'd wager."

This I knew was true, as Chuck had told me about how the Penguin operated.

" _The Penguin takes a lot of female accomplices. Loves to have bimbos and prostitutes at his side or in his club. Therefore, it's pretty easy to get a high-paying job, if you like that kind of work. The closer you get to Penguin the better off you are. Might be your best option."_

"Working for the Penguin represents your lowest base of mental capacity. If you perhaps wish to maximize your cranial usage and intellectual capability, I suggest that you work for me," a new voice called out. Unsurprisingly, it belonged to the Riddler. "I'm always looking for new employees in my ongoing endeavor to beat and utterly humiliate the Batman."

" _The Riddler has been known to take female accomplices. He pays the best, compared to everyone else. However, being a Riddler minion doesn't get you the same amount of respect as being with other supervillains. Also, Riddler can be frustrating and annoying to work with. But hey, if you think you can take it, it's a good financial option."_

"Oh piss off, Nigma," the Penguin barked back.

"Did I mention that's he's a vicious, tacky bully?" the Riddler offered.

"Don't work with them, join Two-Face. He's twice the man that they are!" another voice called out. I gathered that he must be one of Two-Face's lieutenants. It appeared that the duality-obsessed gangster was not currently incarcerated. Chuck had told me that Two-Face takes female accomplices, but usually in twos, so he can pair them up, keeping with his duality theme. Working for Two-Face would be another bimbo heavy job, so I was told.

As the Penguin shot some nasty words at the Two-Face Lieutenant, I looked around to see who else was in the room. I spied the Mad Hatter in the back of the room, eyeing me with a lecherous grin. There was no way that I was going to work for the Hatter. Chuck had warned me that the Hatter was obsessed with blondes, as he thought each one was Alice. Apparently, those Alices usually wound up dead. So yeah, not working for him. Poison Ivy and Catwoman were in the back as well, chatting with each other. I was told that Ivy only took male accomplices and Catwoman works alone, so there would be no female supervillain for me to work for.

"Child, do not be swayed by this wicked men. God still loves you and calls for you to join him, to join us, in purifying the world," Deacon Blackfire chimed in. Chuck had said that he accepted any and everyone, but that he led a cultist group, so there was no leaving…ever.

Blackfire's statement caused many in the room to laugh, including the Joker with his trademark laugh.

"I am in need of a new apprentice. Allow me to become your employer," the semi-robotic voice of Mr. Freeze called out, silencing the rest.

" _Mr. Freeze takes females, but expects them to work in the laboratory with him. He's trying to save his wife, whom he is devoted to. The good news is that means you won't have to worry about him hitting on you. Always a plus."_

"So, what's it going to be?" the Joker asked.

"Indeed. I am eager to hear your decision," the Riddler added.

"Don't choose those bloody wankers. I can make all your dreams come true," the Penguin said with a chuckle.

Truth be told, I wasn't really sure. I had been planning on going with the Penguin, but now I was having second thoughts. Perhaps working for Freeze would be better for me…

But just then, out of the blue, a new voice spoke. "I'll take the child." Heads turned to see who had just spoken. Everyone was surprised to see that the voice belonged to the Scarecrow.

Chuck had told me that Scarecrow has never taken an accomplice, and based on the reactions of the other supervillains, they were under that impression too.

Scarecrow stepped forwards, closer to me. He reached his gloved hand out towards me. The other villains stepped back, unsure of what to do with this unusual situation.

To be honest, I don't know why I agreed to join the Scarecrow. Perhaps it was a heat of the moment decision for me, or that I felt special, because Scarecrow didn't normally take help. But whatever the reason, before I knew it, I accepted. I reached out and took his hand, the most fateful decision of my life.

* * *

Hey everybody! Thanks for reading this first part of A Nightmare Fantasmic! I am very excited to introduce this piece, as I'm experimenting with some different styles of writing than I'm used to. As of now, I won't be updating super frequently, as this piece is currently serving as something to work on while I have writer's block for _A Veritable Maelstrom_. Regardless, feel free to review and let me know what you think, as your reactions will influence my work on this one! Thanks again for reading!

See ya real soon,

The Mustachioed Academic


	2. Jerome Baker

Disclaimer: I (obviously) do not own the rights to any Batman characters in this work. I only own Carmel and any other made up characters throughout the story.

* * *

The Scarecrow didn't say anything as he led me out of the lounge. He didn't seem to be in a hurry, but clearly wanted to get away from the lounge and all of the rogues inside. I followed him in silence, going through the twist and turns of various hallways. He didn't walk very fast and was hunched over, but walked with a firm purpose. Eventually, we stopped at a set of cells. A security guard with a clipboard approached me.

"Who's this?" the guard asked. He looked to be on the older side, as if he had been at Arkham for a long time.

"Carmel Ocean," I answered.

"She'll be occupying this cell here," the Scarecrow said, pointing at a cell.

"But that's Mr. Norris' cell. He may return from the medical ward."

"He won't. I made sure of that," was the Scarecrow's reply.

An awkward silence followed. Sensing that the Scarecrow was definitive on this, the security guard took a step back. "My apologies, Dr. Crane. Ms. Ocean can definitely have this cell."

I saw the guard write some stuff down on his clipboard. _Well shit, I wouldn't want to piss off the Scarecrow either._

"You're all set, Ms. Ocean," the guard told me, and then left as quickly as possible.

 _That's probably how he's survived this long_. At this point, I realized that the Scarecrow and I had not spoken yet. _Should I say something, or let him talk first?_ I wondered.

But I wouldn't have to decide, as Scarecrow then turned to me. It was the first time I got a look at his face proper, as his hood had obscured his face. He face was definitely grotesque; I wasn't really sure what part was his actual face and what part was a mask that had been grafted on. I had heard, of course, that he had a nasty run-in with Killer Croc, but I had never imagined in my wildest nightmares that this was what his face looked like.

Upon seeing my reaction, he smiled maliciously. "Does my appearance frighten you?" he asked in his gravelly, monotonous voice.

"It kind of does," I replied honestly. I was doing my best to hide any fear though. _If I'm going to work for him, I've got to get used to this and I certainly can't let him scare me!_

"Good." He turned around to face the cell. "My cell is directly across from yours," he continued, pointing one of his skeletal-esque fingers towards his cell. With that, he walked into his cell.

 _Nothing else to say? 'Cause I have a million questions!_ But of all the questions I had, the one that I asked was, "What happened to this Mr. Norris?"

"Him? He smashed his head against the bars repeatedly. Babbling the whole time," a new voice called out. I looked to my left and saw someone in the cell next to Scarecrow's.

"Wait, I know you. You're that bounty hunter."

"I'm an assassin. Codename's Deathstroke. And you're Carmel Ocean?" he asked.

"You know me?" I asked incredulously.

He laughed. "Nope. But I do have ears and heard you say your name, kiddo."

 _Duh._ I mentally facepalmed, embarrassed at my stupidity. "Of course. Sorry." I walked towards my cell, and a strong scent filled my nose, causing me to recoil. "What is that smell?" I asked.

"Probably the cleaning solution they used on the bars to get the blood off. They got done minutes before you and Scarecrow returned," Deathstroke replied nonchalantly. He laughed upon seeing my horrified reaction.

Scarecrow then returned from his cell. "This is for you." He handed me a piece of torn burlap. It had been tied into a ring.

"What is this?"

"It's a bracelet for you to wear. That way, the other inmates will know whom you work for," he explained.

 _Is that really going to work?_ I wondered to myself, not feeling very optimistic as I put it on.

Sensing my apprehension, he apologized. "For now, it's the best that I can come up with."

"You've never given me a present, and I've been your cell neighbor for years," Deathstroke complained.

Scarecrow turned to face him. "You've never worked for me."

"Put up the money and I will," Deathstroke answered with steely seriousness.

Scarecrow just blinked at him and turned back to me. "Right now, I am in the early stages of my planning. When I need you, I will let you know." He then returned to his cell, shutting the door, which informed me that he did not want to be disturbed.

I headed into my cell. _It's bigger than I expected, so that's good_. I sat down on my bed, unsure of what to do. I sat there in silence for the next hour or so, trying to take in everything that had happened. Meanwhile, the Scarecrow continuing working on whatever he was doing in his cell. Deathstroke appeared to not pay me any mind either.

Finally, I decided I wasn't just going to sit here bored out of my mind. "I think I'm going to go exploring," I announced to no one in particular.

"I don't know if that's a good idea," Deathstroke began.

"It's my first day, and I'm going to go take a look around. If you need me, come get me," I answered, directing my last sentence at Scarecrow. However, Scarecrow said nothing, so I headed out on my own.

 _There sure are a lot of twists and turns here_ , I thought to myself. I stopped, trying to think if I remembered the way back to my cell. Once confident that I did, I continued onward. I came upon a different lounge and walked in. There were only two guys in the room, and they were playing pool.

"Hello there," I greeted. I didn't want to appear overly cheerful, but I did believe it was important to make some friends while here, if possible.

The men turned to me. One was exceptionally tall and sported a goatee and mustache. He looked at me first, before grunting to his shorter friend.

"Why hello there, sweetheart," the shorter man began in a syrupy sweet voice. "What can we do for you today?" He had a handlebar mustache, which appeared to be groomed impeccably.

"Oh nothing in particular. I'm new here, and I wanted to look around and meet some people."

"Well, you definitely found us, isn't that right, Thorpe?" he said, turning to his much taller friend. Said man only grunted in approval, saying nothing more. "I'm Jerome Baker, and this is my friend, Thorpe."

"I'm Carmel Ocean. Nice to meet you." I stuck my hand out in anticipation of him shaking it, but instead, Jerome came up and kissed my hand. Yeah, I thought that was kind of weird, but I didn't think too much about it. After all, there were a lot of crazy folks here, right?

"We're sooooo glad you stopped by. It's been quite some time since we've had a lady drop by," a grinning Jerome continued.

Thorpe grinned maliciously, which is what first told me that perhaps I was in some trouble. He reached out to touch my hair, but I swatted his hand away.

"Sorry about that. Thorpe has a thing for blonde hair. What's that on your wrist?" Jerome asked me.

"It's my bracelet that Scarecrow gave me. It's to show everyone that I work for him."

"Is that so?" Jerome didn't seem convinced. Considering that apparently everyone knew that the Scarecrow didn't take minions, I'm not surprised that he questioned it.

"It's true, I swear!"

"Heard that one a million times, dollface." His tone then immediately darkened. "Now why you get on your knees for us and be a good little girl." That comment got Thorpe to laugh and he took two steps toward me, which was way too close for comfort.

"Excuse me?" I shot back, which was code for _What the fuck do you think I am, a sex toy?_ Now I know you're thinking, but Carmel, you're a prostitute! There was no money coming from this, trust me. I have my standards and these guys were nowhere near them.

"Oh come on, we can be friends. You just need to blow both of us. It's been foreeeeever," Jerome purred, taking a few steps towards me.

"That's not happening! I think I better get going," I backed up a few steps.

Thorpe immediately reached out and grabbed me. "I don't think so." Jerome got real close to me and leered. "Man, buddy, we are lu-huh-cky that Carmel decided to drop by, huh?"

I heard Thrope grunt his agreement.

Suddenly, Jerome squeezed my breasts. "And you've got such nice tits, too. We hit the jackpot!"

"You're sick," I spat at him.

He clearly didn't care, however. "That's what the doctors keep telling me! But I think I'm plenty virile. I've raped thirty-two women and still going strong, so I don't think they know what they're talking about." He cackled, a shrill, squeaky laugh.

That was it for me. I need to get the fuck out of there and fast. So I slammed both my elbows into Thorpe's chest, which knocked him off me. He was probably just surprised that someone actually fought back. Now free, I proceeded to punch Jerome as hard as I could right in the face. He went flying backwards, tripping and landing on the pool table.

I took off as fast as I could, out the room, through the maze of halls. I didn't stop running until I reached my cell some five minutes later.

Deathstroke looked up at me. Scarecrow did not. "What happened?" Deathstroke asked.

"I nearly got raped!" I exclaimed, clearly in distress.

"Yeah. That happens. You got away, though, so that's good," he replied. Clearly the response of an assassin who's seen it all and is not fazed by this sort of thing, I guess.

"Who was it?" The Scarecrow's voice called out. I turned to see that he was now right behind me, causing me to flinch.

"Jerome Baker and his friend Thorpe," I explained.

"Oh, I know those two. A pair of assholes," Deathstroke said. "Guess the bracelet didn't work," Deathstroke smugly told Scarecrow.

Scarecrow scowled at Deathstroke. He turned and headed back into his cell, saying nothing else. Immediately, he went back to work.

I headed into my cell and once again sat on my bed. Various emotions and thoughts were running through my mind, jumbling together. _I almost got raped. And Scarecrow, my supposed "protector" doesn't even care. Did I make the right choice of villain? What am I going to do with my life?_

I continued on in this way for another hour or so, until the old security guard came back. He proceeded to lock everyone's doors for the night and shut the lights off. Now I ain't no baby, but I'm also not a liar. I may or may not have cried my self to sleep softly. I guess no one said prison life was easy, especially at Arkham Asylum.

* * *

I awoke the next morning to see that Scarecrow was already up, furiously scribbling away in some notebook. Deathstroke wasn't in his cell, probably off getting some food. My stomach growled. _Yeah, I definitely need to go get some breakfast_.

"Breakfast is served until 9:00 in the cafeteria," the Scarecrow began, not looking up from his notebook."

"Would you like to come with me?" I asked. _Translation: Considering I was nearly raped last time, please fucking come with me._

"I already ate," was his succinct response.

"Okay. I'll head down then." _Translation: Fuck you._ I headed through the twisty halls and eventually found the cafeteria.

As soon as I walked in, all eyes turned to me. But just as quickly, the eyes were averted, looking to different places. _It's almost like they're uncomfortable to see me_. Kind of strange, but whatever. I went and got my slop that was supposedly breakfast and found an empty table.

I was there only a few minutes when Chuck Grey sits down next to me. "Hey, how's it going?"

"I'm surviving," I replied.

"Scarecrow, huh? Good choice, love."

"Good choice?" I turned to him. "I still nearly got raped last night! Luckily, I was able to fight them off!" I exclaimed.

"Well, you won't have to worry about that anymore," he said with a chuckle.

I squinted my eyes at him. "What do you mean?"

"You didn't hear? They found Jerome Baker and Thorpe dead in their cells this morning."

"What?!"

"Jerome choked to death…on his own eyes, which he clawed out and were found shoved down his own throat. Thorpe hung himself from his bed sheets, which I thought would be kind of hard, considering how tall he was, but I guess he made it work somehow," Chuck said with a shrug. "Also, he had chewed off his own arm and used it as a pencil. In his blood, he wrote on the floor, 'We're sorry, Carmel.' So I don't think you have to worry about anyone messing with you anytime soon."

I looked at Chuck, horrified at what he had just said. "Who did this to them?"

"I told you, they did it themselves. No one can get into those cells at night."

"How did this happen then?" I was flabbergasted and at a total loss.

"You don't know? Everyone's pretty positive that must have been hallucinating pretty fucking badly. The guys next to them heard them screaming and yelling. That means one thing…fear toxin. And we all know who makes that."

Although horrified at the details, they also satisfied me. _A fitting end to those assholes._ "Thanks for the info, Chuck. I think I need to go talk to Scarecrow, though."

"Probably." He smiled at me and then went over to rejoin his buddies.

I picked up my tray and headed for the exit. There were two burly looking guys talking to each other in the doorway, blocking the exit. But as soon as I came over and they saw me, or more accurately, my bracelet, they immediately got out of my way. I gave them a curt nod and than wandered back to the cells.

Scarecrow was exactly where I left him. I went into my cell and sat down to eat my breakfast. "So…I heard about Jerome and Thorpe," I began.

He stopped his writing. "And?"

"They got what they deserved."

"I do not deal in justice, Ms. Ocean. I deal in fear. It just so happens that I needed to test out some of my latest toxin that I've been developing here in secret. Our interests merely intersected."

I didn't really believe him, though. He had definitely wanted to make a point to the others, to warn them not to mess with me and I did appreciate that. _I guess he does care about me._ A small smile came to my lips. Deciding to push my luck, I asked, "Can I ask a question?"

He looked up and turned towards me. "You may."

"What should I call you?" It was a very logical question, and I certainly didn't want to call him the wrong name.

He blinked and nodded his head. I assume that meant he found my question acceptable. "You may call me Doctor or Professor Crane, if you please."

That interested me. I guess he preferred that to Scarecrow. _I suppose I would, too if that was me._ "One more question: why me? Did our interests intersect there, too?" I stared into his empty eyes. One looked particularly blank, as if it was perhaps blind.

"They did. My upcoming scheme is so grandiose that I will need some help with it. You came at the right time."

Once again, I wasn't sure that I believed him. But I had no idea what he actually wanted from me, if that wasn't the case.

"Any more questions?" he growled.

I could see that he was not yet comfortable with me. _But I'm not comfortable with him_ I reminded myself, so I should cut him some slack. "No."

"Good. I have to go see Dr. Eliot about something."

That name rang a bell to me, but I couldn't remember from where. I saw him get up, which appeared to be more of a struggle than it would be for a normal guy. It was then that I noticed the braces on each of his legs. _Must be another result of Killer Croc._ He exited his cell and started to head out before I stopped him. "Dr. Crane?"

He turned to look back at me. "Yes, child?"

"Thanks." I didn't have to explain for what, as we both knew.

He nodded and turned around to leave again. He took a few steps before stopping again. "Perhaps…you would care to join me in visiting Dr. Eliot?" he asked without turning around.

I smiled, happy that he decided to include me. "I'd be delighted."

* * *

Hey folks! I'm back with another update to the story here. Thank you to everyone who's fav/followed or wrote a review for this piece! I'm excited to see what y'all think of this part here.

See ya real soon,

The Mustachioed Academic


	3. Temple Fugate

Disclaimer: I (obviously) do not own the rights to any Batman characters in this work. I only own Carmel and any other made up characters throughout the story.

* * *

A few days had passed since the Jerome Baker incident, and I'm happy to report that no one dared mess with me now. Of course, that made making friends difficult, but who cares? I certainly didn't come here to make friends, only to get in and out as quickly as possible.

I was lying in my cell, bored, when Scarecrow called me over. "Carmel, can you come here?" _He doesn't usually call me over, what's up?_ I acquiesced, walking over to his cell. "A friend of mine is on his way here, in exactly forty-five seconds. He's a bit…crass; so don't say anything that might upset him. Just be courteous."

"Of course," I replied, not sure why Scarecrow felt the need to warn me about his visitor.

Seconds later, a new voice called out. "I'm here, Professor." Stepping into view was an older looking man dressed in a three-piece suit. His glasses poignantly resembled the face of a clock. I had never seen the man before in my life, and no idea who the hell he was. _But I think I know this guy…_

"Temple, thank you for coming." _What an unusual name._

"I had one hundred and eighty-seven seconds to spare, fortunately for you," the man replied gruffly. "And who is this?" he asked, turning to me. "Not a girlfriend, she's way too young for you."

I had to stifle a laugh, remembering Scarecrow's request. "I'm Carmel Ocean. I work for Scarecrow."

"Ah, so the rumors are true."

"Carmel, this is Temple Fugate," said Scarecrow.

It was upon hearing his full name that I finally realized who the man was. "You're the Clock King!" I exclaimed. I saw Scarecrow's head drop, believing that to be the exact type of statement he didn't want me to make.

Temple smiled at me. "Why yes. Very good, young lady!" Scarecrow raised his head, surprised that I hadn't upset him. Turning to Scarecrow, he said, "I retract my previous statement, Dr. Crane. You should indeed court her. I like her."

Scarecrow was confused, and unsure what to say. For some smug reason, I enjoyed seeing Scarecrow squirm a bit. Fortunately for him, Temple pushed on. "However, I can't waste my entire time on pleasantries. What do you need?"

Back on subject, the Scarecrow was more comfortable. "I need you to retrieve a specific sample of fear toxin from Freeze."

Temple nodded his head. "I should be able to do that. Which sample?"

Scarecrow handed Temple a scrap of paper. "This is what I need. Give this to Freeze and he'll know which one."

"Very good. I estimate my return at…7:36 this evening."

"Thank you, Temple."

Temple then turned on his heels and walked out of the cell immediately.

After he was gone, I asked, "What was that all about? Mr. Freeze has a lab here? Don't you have access to his lab?" _So many questions, so little time._

"I do, but it would be rather suspicious if I visited Freeze. Then I would have guards asking questions that I don't need," he explained.

"And why does Freeze have fear toxin?"

Scarecrow sighed. I could tell that he sick of all of these questions, but he did oblige. "Freeze is stationed in a sub-zero temperature lab so he can work on curing his wife. I have sipped him various fear toxin samples to be frozen in his lab. He can and does occasionally use them for his research, but also acts as an emergency supply if I need some."

Of course, my next question was what did Scarecrow need the toxin for. After all, he clearly had some, evidenced by Jerome Baker's gruesome death. But I didn't want to push my luck. The Scarecrow was not exactly someone you wanted to be on bad terms with.

"When Temple returns, I will require your assistance," he finished.

* * *

I was unsurprised to see that at exactly 7:36, Temple Fugate did return, as he had promised. He handed a small vile to Scarecrow, who immediately took it and started to inspect it.

"I heard that Cobblepot got out today," Temple began. "Apparently, his team of lawyers were able to get him out on some sort of technicality. The judge, too, was corrupt, and that helped."

"No surprise there. It's better when Oswald is on the outside," Scarecrow answered, his focus still on the vile.

A silence ensued. Looking to break the silence, I asked Temple, "So, how did you get a food serving job here?"

"It's very simple. I'm not considered dangerous enough to be denied the job. And besides, doing it gets me three months off of my sentence. And I, for one, cannot stand wasting time."

"I should have guessed," I mumbled to myself.

"Miss Ocean, working for me means that you may be exposed to certain toxins," the Scarecrow began. "Thus, it is in your best interest that you become exposed to low density samples so you can build up an immunity."

 _Well, that's a fucking bombshell!_ I didn't even have to say anything, as my eyes gave enough of a reaction for Scarecrow to continue on.

"Now, this sample is very weak and diluted, which is why Temple had to retrieve it for me. I have only…stronger samples on my person."

He seemed a little to eager to assure me of his plan. Yet, that seemed reasonable to me. But also, exposing me to toxin still seemed pretty fucking sketchy. _Quite the problem, huh?_

Scarecrow pushed on, not wishing to allow me a response. "The procedure will be very easy. We're going to tie you down to the bed, so you don't do anything dangerous. I'll simply give some of the toxin, and then let it wear off. It should take a few hours. That's it."

My eyes boggled, no longer able to remain silent. "That's it?! Just say yes to a horrible acid trip?" _So much for trying to stay on Scarecrow's good side._

"Well, it's actually not like an acid trip. It's more-" he tried to explain.

"Don't argue the points with me! This is still not okay!" I spouted, my voice rising in anger.

"I understand your reservations about this, but-"

"But nothing! You're just using me as one of your experiments! At least you could be honest with me for once!" I raged. I took a few deep breaths, done with my rant.

Temple said nothing, but nodded.

Scarecrow sighed. "I am being honest with you. You'll need this, trust me. You have to trust me."

"I don't trust you."

His tone shifted. "Is that because you fear me?"

I could tell that he was now generally interested in my response. "Well, of course, you're the master of fear."

"Once you become familiar with my toxin, you will fear nothing," he finished. "If you truly want to be my assistant, then this is a necessary precaution. Otherwise, something far worse could happen."

I know, I know, you're probably thinking: do NOT do this Carmel! You're exceptionally stupid if you do this!

Temple stepped in. "Miss Ocean, I've observed Jonathan and his toxins for some time now. I can assure you that this one is a very weak strain. He's telling the truth."

With Temple's assurance, I gave up. Stupid or not, I decided to roll with Scarecrow's plan. "Fine." _But I'm not happy about it._

"Excellent. Please lie down on my bed," the Scarecrow asked.

I did so, and then Temple proceeded to tie me down onto the bed with the sheets. "These knots should do the trick," Temple assured me, although I lacked his faith.

"This toxin is a powder. All that needs to happen is for your skin to contact the toxin. It is fairly quick, though, taking effect in a matter of seconds" Scarecrow droned on.

"What will the effects be?" I asked.

"It depends on the person. It also depends on what you see, if you remember it." I must have given an unconvinced look, because he sighed. "Let me show you my sincerity. I'm going to take half of this. Temple, please assist me."

Temple put on gloves, took the vile from Scarecrow, and then proceeded to put some of the powder onto Scarecrow's hand.

We all waited in silence but nothing happened. "As you can see, I am immune to my toxins due to incremental exposure."

 _Show off_. I detected pride in his voice and knocked him down a peg. "But I thought the last time you got caught, Batman doused you with some of your toxin and it was quite effective."

Scarecrow scowled. "That was an unusually high dosage and concentration. Now, are you ready?"

"I guess so." That was a mistake indeed.

* * *

When I awoke, I had no memory of what had happened. All I know is that I woke up to see Scarecrow scribbling down some notes. He looked up at me inquisitively. "You are awake."

"Astute observation," I shot back. I did know that my head hurt like a bitch. "How long was I out?"

"A little over two hours once you passed out."

My memory of the event was gone. The last thing I remember was saying that I was ready to begin. "That long?"

"I'm a little surprised that you're up. I had expected it would take a little longer. You screamed quite a bit, so I figured you had a bad experience."

"I don't remember any of it."

"That's normal. Probably for the best."

"So I was bad?"

"Well, I had to gag you so that your screams wouldn't attract someone over here, but I anticipated that. Also good fortune that you were bound." A small smile appeared on his face, and I hated it. More importantly, I was concerned, as these reactions seemed pretty fierce.

Sensing my apprehension, he continued, "But like I said, it was all good once you passed out."

 _Well, that doesn't exactly make me feel any better!_ "Oh, good," I responded, the response dripping with sarcasm.

Scarecrow didn't reply to that, but instead untied me. "Alright, you are finished."

"Where's Temple?"

"He left a while ago. But he told me to give you his regards."

I got up and returned to my cell, pretty much done with this day. I could sense the Scarecrow wanted to say something to me, but he didn't.

"Carmel? You may also experience intense nightmares tonight as the toxin fully wares off."

"Great."

Again, Scarecrow appeared uncertain what to say. He mumbled something, but I couldn't hear what he said. "Huh?"

He looked down and then answered, "Thank you for trusting me." He quickly turned around, back to his work.

 _How nice._

He was right, by the way. I had terrible nightmares that night.

* * *

Hey there everybody! I apologize for the long break, but I've been quite busy as of late. Thank you to all of you guys who have reviewed or fav/followed this since the last update. As always, I am excited to see your reactions to this new section!

See ya real soon,

The Mustachioed Academic


	4. Kirk Langstrom

Disclaimer: I (obviously) do not own the rights to any Batman characters in this work. I only own Carmel and any other made up characters throughout the story.

* * *

A few weeks went by, with very little to report. I had basically become a regular in Arkham, as everyone knew who I was and I was getting to become familiar with the other inmates as well. The Scarecrow continued to bolster my fear toxin immunity, subjecting me to one session a week. Although I still was not fond of the "treatment," by the fourth time, I found that I had grown immune to the sample size I had the first time, showing that he wasn't bullshitting me. As I said, very little had happened inside the Asylum recently, which seemed unusual to everyone.

We did, however, get some new neighbors.

About a week after my first fear toxin sample, Killer Moth was brought into custody. His cell was next to mine and I guess that was always the case. He was brought in his entire colorful getup: purple and green striped fabric, with an orange cape and a moth-like mask.

"The Dark Knight take you down?" Deathstroke asked.

"He clipped my wings this time, but I will have my revenge!" Killer Moth replied. "And I see you and Scarecrow are here too, so…"

"Hey, I'm just here until I get a job that I want," Deathstroke fired back.

"Always a pleasure, Killer Moth," Scarecrow offered up with his trademark lack of emotion.

The guard escorted Killer Moth to his cell, and then left. "I'd say it's good to be home, but it never is," Killer Moth said. "So what's new here? I see I've got a new cell neighbor."

"That's Carmel Ocean. She's my new assistant," Scarecrow explained to him.

"Pleasure to meet you. I'm Drury Walker, but you can call me Killer Moth if you wish."

"The Bat must be really locking down Gotham. Who's still out there? Black Mask and Two-Face? Anyone else?" Deathstroke asked.

"I don't think so. The street's pretty empty these days," Killer Moth answered. "I wasn't really even planning anything major. Pretty sure Batman just came to jail me."

"Something is afoot. Some of the more explosive villains are intentionally not escaping," Scarecrow observed.

"It has been quiet," Deathstroke agreed.

I personally, would never call Arkham Asylum quiet, but if he meant that there had been no massive riots or escape attempts recently (since I had been here), then, sure, it had been "quiet."

"Well, I'm going to get out of here as soon as possible," Killer Moth responded matter of factly.

"Of course," said the Scarecrow soothingly, although I could tell he doubted it immensely.

* * *

Two weeks passed until another new arrival appeared, much to our surprise. I now had neighbors on both sides of my cell upon the arrival of Dr. Kirk Langstrom. We were all a bit perplexed as to why he was here. I, of course, didn't know every supervillain, but it appeared that Scarecrow, Deathstroke, and Killer Moth didn't know who he was either.

Langstrom looked to be an unassuming middle-aged man, who was balding at the top of his head. He had developed a scruffy mustache and beard combination, most likely due to not shaving the last several days. However, he had massive bags under his eyes, which were horribly bloodshot.

The guard led him into his cell. "Turned into a giant bat and killed his wife. Batman took him down. He might be out of it for a few days, but you guys should be fine." He then immediately left.

"That's a comforting thought," I retorted. "We'll _probably_ be fine."

"A bat? Doesn't he know that I've already got the flying animal shtick covered?" Killer Moth asked indignantly.

"Or that, you know, Batman is around?" Deathstroke added.

"Turned into a giant bat? How did he accomplish this?" the Scarecrow mused.

"Hello there, stranger. I'm Slade Wilson. What's your name?" Deathstroke began, perhaps a bit facetiously.

But Langstrom merely looked up and mumbled some intelligible words, with palpable fear in his eyes.

"He looks like you gassed him, Scarecrow," Deathstroke commented.

"Indeed. I'm very interested in him," Scarecrow replied.

Langstrom was incoherent the rest of the day, much to all of our disappointment. However, all of our questions were answered the next day. Langstrom received a rather special visitor, Dr. Iverson, one of the higher ups at Arkham. Before his arrival, armed guards came and locked us in our cells, normal protocol when a doctor or someone similar came to visit. Iverson looked to be in his mid-fifties, with salt and pepper gray hair. Iverson wore glasses and had a graying moustache as well. Two armed guards accompanied him.

Upon seeing Scarecrow, he gave him a curt nod. "Dr. Crane."

"Dr. Iverson," the Scarecrow responded somewhat cordially. Clearly, the men knew each other. _Mental note to figure out how later._

"Kirk. Can you hear me, Kirk?" Iverson asked.

Langstrom squinted his eyes, trying to see whom it was talking to him. "Who are you?" he asked in a hoarse voice.

"I'm Dr. Iverson. How are you feeling?"

"Very sore. What happened? Where am I?" Langstrom asked.

"You're in Arkham Asylum. Do you have any recollection of what happened?" Dr. Iverson asked.

"No. The last thing I remember was testing my DNA splicing on myself."

"You turned into a giant bat," Dr. Iverson said rather bluntly.

"I did?"

"The splicing caused some sort of effect in you that completely transformed you. You were a literal man-sized bat. Take a look." Dr. Iverson handed Langstrom a picture. I couldn't see it, because my cell was next to Langstrom's.

"Oh my God," Langstrom responded, mortified. "Did I hurt anybody?"

"You did, Dr. Langstrom. That's why you're here. Batman synthesized an antidote for you and forced you to take it, which returned you to your human state."

"How many people?" Langstrom pressed.

"You killed three…during your flight around Gotham."

"Anyone else?"

"Dr. Langstrom, I'm sorry, but…you killed your wife as well."

"Francine? She was with me when I experimented," Langstrom recollected, the memory slowly coming back to him. "And I killed her?"

"Blunt force trauma to the head. You must have sent her crashing into something." Dr. Iverson produced another photo.

"No, no, I don't want to see it," Langstrom replied, his voice choked up. "My sweet Francine," he cried to himself.

"There's more, though. Batman sent the GCPD word of the body to collect, but when they arrived, she was gone."

"What?"

"Your lab was more destroyed than before and there was no sign of Francine. The words 'Forever, my love' were written on a mirror in blood."

"What happened?"

"Batman believes that her injuries led her to become infected by your serum and reviving her. We have no idea where she is currently. That's all I have for you."

"Thank you, Dr. Iverson. There's still hope for Francine."

While all of us were shocked at the news, I cannot imagine how Dr. Langstrom felt about the whole thing. Here was a perfectly normal man who suddenly had four deaths, including his wife's (maybe), on his hands. I wouldn't have the chance to interrogate him myself, though, as Dr. Iverson moved on to my cell.

"Carmel Ocean, correct?" he asked.

"That's me, doc."

"If you could come to my office, I need to speak with you. Alone."

That last bit frightened me, though I wasn't sure why. Dr. Iverson didn't seem to be malevolent, and only had a reputation of being strict. "Of course." The guards led me away, taking me into the maze that is Arkham with Dr. Iverson. We eventually arrived to his office. The guards remained outside as we entered his office. I presumed this meeting was some kind of check-up on me, since I hadn't met with any staff member since my arrival.

"Please sit down." I sat in a chair across from his desk, and he settled in on the other side. "I just wanted to see how things have been going for you. I'm terribly sorry that you are stationed here at the Asylum, but the damage to Blackgate from the fire was rather extensive," he droned on.

"Well, I'm still here. I've been as good as you can be for someone in jail with a bunch of supervillains," I retorted.

"I see." He adjusted his glasses. "You have behaved rather well here, and that has not gone unnoticed. Due to the combination of your good behavior, your status as a first time offender, and the Blackgate situation, it has been decided that your sentence should be reduced to two months. Thus, if I'm not mistaken, you now have one month left."

"Thank you," I responded professionally. I didn't want to overplay my emotions. _Thank God, I can't wait to get out of this zoo!_

"But, I wanted to also talk about something more grave. It has been reported and confirmed that you have been under the Scarecrow's protection since your arrival. Do not think that this comes free. Be very careful with him and what he wants. I shouldn't have to remind you that he is a dangerous psychopath responsible for many deaths," he lectured.

"I'm aware of that."

"Heed my advice and break free of him when you leave in a month. An accomplice to a supervillain gets a year minimum, may I remind you."

"Thanks, dad," I answered facetiously. "Anything else?"

He glared at me icily. "No. Just be rational. Now get out."

"Mmmkay." I rose from the chair and left the room.

On my way back to my cell, I did think about what Dr. Iverson had told me. It was true that I had no endgame with this Scarecrow business. _Was I really going to work for Scarecrow after I got out? Did it pay well?_ _It probably had to be better than continuing as a prostitute, right?_ Now that my sentence was shorter, I'd have to answer these questions much earlier than I expected.

All of these thoughts and more were swirling through my head as I arrived back to my cell and my cellmates.

"What did the good doctor want?" Scarecrow asked me.

"He wanted to check in with me and tell me that, because of my good behavior, my release date has been moved up. I'll be out of here in a month!"

"That's great news, kiddo," Deathstroke said.

"Agreed. The sooner you are out of here, the better. Then we can really get to work," Scarecrow added. I wasn't quite sure what he meant by that unless he was planning an escape for himself. It was possible, after all, Deathstroke said he could leave whenever he wanted, and I believed him.

"While you've been gone, we tried talking to Dr. Langstrom," Killer Moth stated. I looked over to Langstrom and saw that he was softly crying to himself, his face in his hands.

"You broke him?" I asked in an accusatory tone, turning to Scarecrow.

That drew a laugh from Killer Moth. "She knows you too well, Scarecrow!"

"Ignore my flippant companion. I did not do anything. The three of us wanted to ask a few questions, but he broke down thinking about his wife. I do want to interrogate him, though, so perhaps you could talk to him and calm him."

Dr. Crane's reasons for wanting me to help him were purely selfish, but I acquiesced because I did want to help out Langstrom. I walked into his cell, but he didn't notice me.

"Dr. Langstrom?" I offered.

He picked his head up and looked at me. "I'm Carmel Ocean, your cell neighbor.

Langstrom sniffled. Wiping the tears from his eyes, he then took a deep breath to compose himself. "You can call me Kirk."

"Kirk," I replied. "I'm sorry that you've ended up here."

"So am I," he answered with a sigh.

"If you need anything just let one of us know. We're all here for you," I continued, doing my best at saying generic consoling things.

"But…they're supervillains," Langstrom replied, distrustful of the others. _Not that I blamed him._

"We're not so bad," Deathstroke offered up.

Langstrom looked at Deathstroke with confusion. "Aren't you that assassin? You've killed hundreds."

"He got you there!" Killer Moth called out from his cell, laughing at Deathstroke.

Scarecrow rose from his bed. "But, of those here, we are civilized. Rest assured, I, nor Slade, Carmel, or Drury will harm you here." He walked over by Langstrom and me and extended his hand. "Dr. Jonathan Crane, Gotham University" he said, as if Langstrom had no idea who he was, which he obviously did.

Not really having a choice otherwise, Langstrom got up and shook Scarecrow's hand. "Dr. Kirk Langstrom, Gotham State."

"Ah yes, the other school. Our rivals," he answered drily. And I swore there was a ghost of a smile on his lips.

Deathstroke and Killer Moth followed suit, entering Langstrom's cell and introduced themselves.

I'm sure it was all very overwhelming for Kirk. I can confirm how strange it is to meet these criminals as human beings and not villains of myth-like proportions. But that's the reality of Arkham Asylum, I guess.

* * *

The five of us went to the cafeteria together that night. Crane and Langstrom were discussing things at the lead, with Deathstroke following. Drury and I were in the rear.

"You know, I must say, Carmel, that having you around could be a very good thing for Scarecrow," he began in a low tone.

"You think?" I answered, unconvinced.

"Yes. He's not exactly been the same since…the incident."

I knew what he was talking about. After a run in with Batman, Scarecrow had been grabbed and nearly killed by Killer Croc, hence his physical ailments and restructured face. "What was he like before?"

"Well, he was a bit more impulsive and manic. His voice, for one, used to be higher pitched and far more emotional. He was really a fearsome sight then, cackling madly and running around. But now, not so much. I think the incident sobered him up. Gave him a new outlook on life."

"More sane?" I asked, again unconvinced.

"I don't know. He hasn't done a whole lot since the incident. But his schemes have been more elaborate and thought out, from what I've seen and heard."

"So why me?" I figured if Killer Moth knew Scarecrow this well, he might have insight into why I was picked.

"I think he's finally ready to really step up his game. His most elaborate and dangerous plot of all time. Big enough that he needs help."

"That's terrifying."

"Isn't it?" Killer Moth replied gleefully. _Glad to see he's looking forward to it._

We arrived in the cafeteria and found our table. I could see some of the inmates whispering to each other and pointing at Langstrom. News travels fast at Arkham, obviously. We say down, trying to avoid everybody's eyes.

However, that was impossible, as the Penguin waddled over near out table.

"So you're the new guy? You can turn into a bat?" he asked.

"I did, yes," Langstrom replied, looking into his lap.

"What's your name, pal?"

"Kirk Langstrom," was his reply.

"No, nah, that won't do. Let's see. Batman's taken, so how about…Man-Bat? What do you think of that, lads?" Penguin called out to his goons. They all hollered their approval. "So, Man-Bat, stop hanging about these wankers and come join me at the table over there. I'd be very interested in your…abilities."

Langstrom coughed. "I'd rather not, Mr. Cobblepot."

"Ah, come on," the Penguin crooned.

"He said no, Oswald," the monotonous voice of the Scarecrow responded.

The Penguin scoffed. "Very well. This cell group was always a bunch of freaks anyway. Except for you, my dear," he said, turning to me. He took my hand, kissed it, and then shuffled back over to his table, where his boys were waiting.

Penguin then got up and stood on the table. "Regardless, I must propose a toast to our new inmate." A goon handed him a cup, which he raised, and all other inmates in the room followed suit, including other supervillains like the Mad Hatter and Riddler.

"This does happen whenever a new villain appears in Arkham," Killer Moth confirmed to me. I looked and saw that Scarecrow and Deathstroke were raising cups, too, so I did so.

"To the Man-Bat!" finished the Penguin.

"Looks like you'll be stuck with that name," Deathstroke said to Langstrom.

"Great," Langstrom answered, shaking his head.

The five of us then continued our meal uninterrupted. In a way, it was kind of nice. They were my Arkham family.

As I lay in bed that night, though, my mind wandered back to my conversation with Dr. Iverson. While I knew Deathstroke and Scarecrow and even Killer Moth as humans, they still were supervillains. Like Langstrom had said, Deathstroke had personally killed hundreds. Scarecrow, too, was responsible for many, many deaths. And even Langstrom had, unintentionally, killed four people. I had never been one of great morals anyway, but I found myself struggling over how to feel about my Arkham family. Deathstroke had always looked out for me, and hell, Scarecrow killed two inmates to protect me. _Maybe I should stay with Scarecrow and see what happens._ I thought I had a few weeks to think about it. Turns out I didn't.

* * *

I'm back! Sorry it's been so long, but hopefully this will tide you over. Thanks to all of you who review/favorite or follow/read this story! Hope you guys enjoy!

See ya real soon,

The Mustachioed Academic


	5. Jenna Duffy

Disclaimer: I (obviously) do not own the rights to any Batman characters in this work. I only own Carmel and any other made up characters throughout the story.

* * *

Two more weeks would pass quietly before something important happened. At least, very important to me. I'm delighted to announce that I met one of my best friends in the world. I was passing by one of the rec rooms when I saw two big thugs talking to a woman against a wall. Assuming the worst, I decided to use my newfound power status to insert myself into the conversation.

"Hey boys, how about you leave the nice lady alone? She's mine," I began forcefully.

The thugs turned to me. "Just who do you think you…?" He trailed off upon recognizing me. _Or my bracelet, I guess. Not sure._

"That's the Scarecrow's bitch!" the other thug chimed in. Not needing any more push, the two bozos lumbered off.

"Well, looks like we got a hotshot here," the woman began. I got my first look at her: reddish brown hair, freckles, and ripped beyond compare. The girl had some guns on her, that's for sure. To me, she looked like a real-life Rosie the Riveter.

"Just wanted to make sure that those apes weren't giving you any trouble," I explained.

"Trouble? No. We were working out the details of a business deal," she replied with supreme confidence.

"A business deal?" I asked confused. _What does she do?_

"Yeah, I'm the Carpenter. That's what I do," was her matter-of-fact response. I could tell she was just as surprised that I hadn't heard of her.

"The Carpenter? Never heard of you. Are you for real?" I asked with a good dose of skepticism.

"Are your tits for real?" she fired back.

I chuckled. _As if I haven't heard that one before_. "They are, honey. I'm Carmel Ocean," I said, sticking out my hand. I liked her style.

She smiled and shook my hand. "Jenna Duffy. But like I said, I'm known as the Carpenter."

"So what exactly do you do?" I asked.

"Usually fixing up lairs and hideouts for other villains. Do a lot of honest work too."

I squinted my eyes at her, unconvinced. "Then how did you end up here?"

"Got mixed up with the Hatter. I was part of his Wonderland Gang. Transferred here after the fires at Blackgate. What about you?"

"Well, the Batman busted one of Black Mask's lieutenants while I was in the room. Got me too."

"So you are a prostitute?" she asked, picking up quickly.

"Not sure anymore. I'm working for Scarecrow here." _Working is a loose term at this point, but meh, details are whatever._

"Gotta be better than being a cumbucket, right?" Jenna asked.

I laughed. "You got me there."

She laughed as well. Finally, she asked, "So what does Scarecrow want from me?"

"Nothing. He didn't send me to find you. I just stumbled on you myself."

"Really?" Jenna seemed surprised by my honesty.

"Us gals got to stick together, right?"

She smiled again. "Right."

Just then, an armed guard appeared down the hallway. "Please step into the rec room, ladies," he called out. "Dangerous prisoner coming through."

We did as told, stepping just inside the rec room. There were a few randos in there, but it was fairly empty. _I wonder who's coming through?_

We heard some yelling, causing Jenna and I to exchange glances. "I was framed! Batman set me up! He tricked me!" Being wheeled by on a gurney in a straitjacket was notorious psychomurderer Victor Zsasz.

"There's another one. Streets must be completely empty," I declared.

"I've got no problem with Zsasz being here. He creeps me out," Jenna confided.

"You worked for the Mad Hatter!" I countered.

She shrugged. "He didn't lay a finger on me. Would have drilled a hole through his head if he did and he knew that. Besides, I'm not blonde, so I'm not his type." _And that's exactly why I stay away from him._ "But you, on the other hand…" She snickered at me. "If you're still into that thing…"

"Gross! Never!" I fired back.

"I think that's exactly what he needs. To get laid," she teased.

I groaned, shaking my head. I knew right there that we were going to be best friends.

* * *

After having lunch with Jenna, we headed back to our respective cellblocks. Only Kirk was there upon my arrival.

"Hey there Dr. Langstrom," I greeted cheerfully. Kirk was always very nice to me, although he did have that absentminded scientist vibe. He was definitively a dad though, although he apparently didn't have any kids of his own.

"Hello Carmel," he responded sadly.

Sensing something was up, I asked, "Everything all right?"

He sighed. "Not exactly. Early this morning, Dr. Iverson took some blood to see if the serum was still there. Unfortunately, although Batman produced enough antidote to revert my state, the serum still is there."

"What does that mean?"

"We're not exactly sure. I believe that it means I could turn into the Man-Bat again. But I have no idea what could trigger it."

 _Well, that's comforting_. There was obviously nothing that I could say to make him feel better after receiving news like that. "I'm sorry to hear that," was all I could muster. Trying to be humorous, I joked, "We better make sure to keep you away from the fear toxin tonight!"

"Fear toxin?" A flash of concern appeared on his face.

"It's my treatment night," I explained. "Once a week, Dr. Crane gives me a small amount of fear toxin in order to build up my immunity."

"That's horrible!" he exclaimed.

"Kind of. But it makes sense so I don't have a major attack when I start working with him. Of course, not sure when he's getting out of here."

"Carmel, are you really going to work for him? Surely you've got a life to go back to?" he asked, going into full dad mode.

"Kirk, I'm a prostitute. Do you really want me to go back to that?" That silenced him for a bit. "You get out of here and hire me as a lab assistant and we'll talk," I teased him.

He smiled. "It's a deal."

"Now if you don't mind, I'm going to go lie down and take a nap, since I won't be getting good sleep tonight." I headed into my cell, hopped into bed, and tried to store up on as much sleep as possible.

* * *

I awoke a few hours later to find that the whole gang was back. "Ah good, you are awake," the Scarecrow began.

"Good morning to you too," I grumbled, rubbing my eyes.

"I have a job for you to do, child. I've been hearing rumors of something very important. I need you to go talk to someone to see if that's true or not."

I was going to ask him why he couldn't do it himself until I realized two things. One, he didn't move around very well, which could be why he asked me and two, this was a basic henchman job. _My first one!_ "Sure, who do you need me to talk to?" I asked with a grin.

Scarecrow picked up on my smile. "What's so funny?"

"Nothing. It's just that I realized that this is my first henchman job. Kind of exciting."

He blinked his eyes and did not respond at first. "Yes, I suppose so," he finally said. "Anyway, you need to go talk to Maxie Zeus. Do you know of him?"

"I've heard that name before." _Nope. Never heard of him, in actuality._

"The most important thing to know is that he actually thinks that he really is Zeus. So please address him as such. And tell him Phobos sent you."

"Okay," I responded skeptically. _Seems weird, but hey, it is Arkham._

"He's usually found in the East Wing rec room," Scarecrow finished.

So, I set off to find Maxie Zeus. I actually didn't have too much trouble tracking him down, but only thanks to Killer Moth. He was also in the East Wing rec room, so I went over to him.

"Hey there Drury," I greeted. I appreciated Killer Moth primarily for the fact that he was the only one of my cellmates under forty and could actually relate to me in conversation. He also very witty and had the wonderful trait of making me laugh frequently.

"Carmel, babe, what can I do for ya?"

"Scarecrow sent me to find Maxie Zeus. Said he'd be in here, but I don't know what he looks like."

Drury chuckled. "Why am I not surprised?" I squinted my eyes at him, unimpressed by his snark. "Relax, just kidding. Let me tell ya though, you're in for a treat. You see that wacko sitting regally in the recliner? That's your man."

I looked over and saw a guy who kind of did look like an ancient emperor or god.

"The toga gives it away," Killer Moth added with a smirk.

I should have seen him myself. "Yeah, yeah, I'm an idiot, laugh all you want." Zeus had bushy black hair that was complimented by his just as bushy mustache and beard. He certainly had an athletic build. _Hope I don't upset him or he'll snap me in two._ "Wish me luck."

I approached Zeus and did my best. "Oh great and powerful Zeus, I seek your wisdom," I greeted, bowing.

He nodded. "Rise mortal. State your purpose," he announced in a booming voice.

"I was sent by Phobos to-"

"Ah, a priestess of Phobos," he interrupted me. "Tell your master that I spoke with my oracle and Hermes does indeed have a plan."

"Thank you, o powerful one." I bowed again for good measure and walked away. _That was all sorts of fun._

I was preoccupied with mu thoughts and thus didn't notice anything as I bumped into someone. Unfortunately, I had just bumped into the Mad Hatter.

He looked at me confused until a look of recognition came upon his face. "Alice?" he asked.

I immediately took a step back. "No definitely not."

He cocked his head inquisitively. "Are you quite sure?" he asked, taking a step closer to me.

"Yes," a voice called out. It was Killer Moth, who was walking over to us. "Buzz off, Jervis." The Hatter did scurry off, much to my relief. "Let's head back," Drury then said, and I was all too happy to comply. "Did you hear that? Buzz off? My puns are on point," he noted gleefully.

"You got me there, Drury. If I was scared shitless, I would have laughed." We walked on in silence for a few more seconds and then I continued. "Thanks for that."

"No problem kiddo. Not going to let anything happen to you."

I nodded. _That's actually really sweet_. _See, were these guys really so bad?_

Upon our return to our cellblock, I saw that Scarecrow had already set up the "lab" for my treatment. "Carmel, Drury. Any problems?"

"Just a run-in with the Hatter, but I flew in and ended it," Drury explained.

Scarecrow nodded, thanking Drury with his eyes. "Keep an eye out for him, Carmel. Did you get the information I requested?"

"Maybe. Zeus told me to tell you that Hermes does have a plan. Does that answer your question?"

Scarecrow frowned. "It does. Very well. Let's proceed with the experiment for now. We will discuss what the news means later."

"May I assist?" Kirk's voice called out. "I'm worried for Carmel."

A chuckle escaped Scarecrow's lips. "Of course, Dr. Langstrom. I will require assistance regardless." Turning to me, he continued, "This should be the last dose. But it's also the most potent one. There's a chance this one could break you," he explained in his monotone voice. It was said so insincerely I nearly laughed at the understatement.

Langstrom came over to Scarecrow's cell. I could tell he was obviously uncomfortable with this. "Are you sure you want to do this Carmel?"

I didn't hesitate. Thinking about it could have caused me to. "Yes, let's go."

* * *

I awoke feeling more drained than ever before. I groaned, feeling a massive headache the likes of which my worst weekend hangovers hadn't ever achieved. "How'd it go?"

Langstrom was looking pretty pale, but perked up upon seeing me. "Carmel, you're okay!"

The ever-emotionless Scarecrow stepped in. "You did well. A lot of screaming, but I anticipated that. Had to use this for the first time in a while," he said, holding up a pillowcase that was rolled to resemble a makeshift gag.

"Kinky," I fired back.

I heard Deathstroke laugh. "See, she's fine. Same old Carmel."

"You vocalized words this time," Scarecrow continued. "So I knew exactly what you were thinking of, which is always exhilarating for me."

 _You look exhilarated_. "What did I say?"

"You were calling out about 'the Mad Hatter' and 'stop.'"

I quickly flushed. _Shit, that's embarrassing_.

"A common fear," he dismissed. "However, we have more urgent matters to discuss. For you see, Zeus refers to the Joker when he says Hermes. This means the Joker is planning a massive breakout."

"A breakout? How would Maxie Zeus know? Does he work for the Joker?"

The Scarecrow proceeded to answer my flurry of questions. "I had heard the Joker was up to something, which I assumed was a breakout. While Maxie Zeus does not work for the Joker, his cell is located very near the Joker's. Thus, he would be a likely candidate to overhear any planning. It appears I was correct."

"But you still don't know if it's a breakout," Killer Moth pointed out.

"What else would that fool be planning? Yet I see your point. This means that we'll have to get confirmation," the Scarecrow responded.

"Do you want me to ask? I know you and the clown don't get along very well," Killer Moth offered. _Mental note: find out that backstory!_

"No. I don't want the Joker to know that we know. So I'll talk to her myself. We've always gotten along decently," Scarecrow finished.

"Who?" I asked.

Killer Moth chuckled. "Why, isn't it obvious? Harley Quinn."

* * *

Hey there everybody, I'm back! Sorry for the long delay on this section. To answer an important question, this story does not take place in the Arkham series universe, although it obvious follows many elements seen in the games. A big shout out to all of you readers and reviewers! You guys are a big inspiration in the continuation of this. We'll see what happens next time! Same bat time, same bat channel!

See ya real soon,

The Mustachioed Academic


	6. Harleen Quinzel

Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to any Batman characters in this work. I only own Carmel and any other made up characters throughout the story.

* * *

Being around powerful supervillains was starting to not faze me much, as I seemed to constantly be meeting and running into new ones. But I must admit, I was a little nervous to meet Poison Ivy because she was big-league in my mind. She was basically the most powerful female supervillain, so hell yeah I was a little nervous meeting her. Yet, here Scarecrow and I were, sitting in the cafeteria across from one Pamela Isley.

Two days had passed since I had seen Maxie Zeus and learned that the Joker was planning something. Scarecrow wanted to talk to Harley, yet for some reason, he said we had talk to Poison Ivy first.

She had bright red hair, green skin, and the greenest eyes you ever did see. But what most shocked me was her wardrobe. All she had on was a red shirt that was held together by just one, maybe two buttons at max. Combined with the fact that she was wearing no bra, it felt like she was barely keeping her tits in there. Only thing she wore below the waist was some green panties that was either designed to look like leaves or actually was leaves. I really had no idea and had no intention of asking. I mean, I was very wary of wearing a very low cut shirt in the Asylum, so I had no idea had she got by. But then again, she had the ability to instantly seduce men with her pheromones, so I guess that helped.

"Jonathan. I'm surprised to see you here. You usually eat later," Poison Ivy began.

"That is correct, Pamela. I came because I know this is when you always eat lunch," Scarecrow explained.

 _I'm sensing some awkward tension here._

"You came to see me? I'm flattered. This is the new girl?" She turned to look at me.

I introduced myself. "Carmel Ocean. A pleasure to meet you, Ms. Ivy."

"Mhmm. She's pretty, Jon, I'll give you that."

 _Considering who gave it, a high compliment indeed!_

"That's not why I'm here, Pamela."

"And you're obviously not here to apologize," she added icily. "So what does bring you here?"

"I need you to speak to Harley for me. I'd like to speak to her tonight," the Scarecrow offered.

"And why should I do that for you? And what do you need to talk to her about?" she fired back.

 _Clearly something happened between these two._

"She has information that I need," Scarecrow answered.

Ivy raised her eyebrows. "Do tell."

"I'd rather not. But I am…sorry."

"For what, Jon? For skipping our dinner? Or for going off the grid and not contacting me after you were nearly killed?"

 _There it is._

"That wasn't my intent at all. It's just that…" he trailed off.

"It's just what?" Ivy responded in a surprisingly soft tone.

Scarecrow didn't respond at first. "Can you talk to her for me? I'd like to see her at 7. It's important, Pamela."

Ivy didn't respond right away. With a sigh, Scarecrow rose and left leaving the two of us.

"I'll do it. Let him know that I'll talk to Harley." Ivy then also got up and left. _I have no idea what just happened, but I guess it worked._

Mentally making a note to investigate exactly what the relationship between Scarecrow and Poison Ivy was at another time, I headed back to my cell to tell my boss of the news.

I found him back at the cell with a look of disappointment on his face. "I thought that was going to go better," he droned.

"Ivy changed her mind. Said she'd talk to Harley for you," I explained.

He quickly looked at me. "Really?" he asked in a surprised tone. "That's very good," he answered, settling back into his monotone.

"Sounds like there's some history between you two," I prodded. I figured it was unlikely he would respond, but it was worth a shot.

"I've known many individuals for a long time," he responded. It was a beautifully crafted diplomatic response that perfectly shut down my line of questioning.

 _I gotta remember that he is a professor._ I reminded myself. "You know what I mean," I fired back.

"Yes, I do. And if I had wanted to answer in a way satisfactory to you, I would have." I could feel the ice of that statement.

"Of course," I responded dismissively in an attempt to hide any embarrassment. "Evidently you know Harley. But you can't directly talk to her?" I pressed. If he didn't want to talk about Poison Ivy, maybe he would tell me about Harley Quinn.

"The Joker doesn't play well with anyone," Scarecrow began. "We've butted heads a few times, so a visit to Harley from me would surely cause a problem. So it's better if I do not go into that cell block."

"That makes sense to me, but then why talk to Harley at all? If you and Joker hate each other, why would she like you?" I asked.

"Harley and I have known each other in a long time. We were professional acquaintances in previous lives. And of course, she's quite close with Pamela."

 _Of course? How was I supposed to know all the relationships between supervillains that battle to rip Gotham City apart?_ "I do think that I remember a time that Ivy and Harley went on a crime spree," I confirmed.

"Exactly. Now Carmel, I'll need you to go to the cafeteria to pick up Harley and bring her back."

"That I can do."

* * *

I must say that I was really starting to become more confident in myself at Arkham Asylum. I entered as a scardy cat, but here I was spending my days chatting away with dangerous criminals. And now, I found myself waiting in the cafeteria to meet Harley Quinn, the Clown Princess of Crime herself. She was, in my opinion, one of the most fascinating of the super criminals due to her wild backstory as the Joker's former psychiatrist at this very building. Just like with Poison Ivy, I was a little starstruck to be meeting someone I only heard about in wild stories and news reports, but I resolved to remain calm.

"You ever meet her?" I asked Jenna as we ate dinner. Considering that several villains had contracted her, I made the assumption that she had far more interactions with the villains than I did.

"Just once and very briefly, Joker hired me to slightly fix up a Hall of Mirrors in an abandoned amusement park. She came in to see how I was doing and then checked herself out in a mirror."

"Didn't know she was vain," I commented.

"No. She was looking in a distorted one. Cracked herself up. If she weren't psycho, it would have been cute. Anyway, I got paid in fish."

"What?"

"I got a box of fish. The money was stuffed inside the fish. Wasn't a big fan of that, so I haven't done a job for him since."

"That seems like the Joker. Don't know what she sees in him," I wondered aloud.

"That makes two of us. Speak of the devil, here she comes," Jenna said. "Don't get nervous," she teased.

"Hey!" I protested.

"I'll see you later. And I want details!" she commanded before getting up and leaving the cafeteria.

 _Wait, does she even know what I look like?_ Apparently she did, because she came right over by me.

"Hi there, you must be Carmel! Red said you'd bring me to the Professa," she greeted as she sat down next to me. Her fashion scheme was obviously red and black. Her blonde hair was in two ponytails with one with a red end and one with a black end. Her tights and boots were also red and black, alternating. The corset and vest was, you guessed it, red and black also. Finally, her face was covered in white makeup.

"That's me. It's very nice to meet you, uh, Miss Quinn," I replied, realizing that I didn't know what to call her.

She laughed. "Call me Harley, kiddo. So ya work for the Professa?"

"Yes I do."

"Johnny's never taken help before, but he should've. It's good, though, 'specially after his injury." Her tone was cheerful as advertised.

"I obviously think so."

"I can't stay too long, so let's go." She hopped up and left.

I quickly followed in suit and we were on our way. "So how'd you and Scarecrow become friends?" I asked nonchalantly.

"I knew him back in the old days. And then, you run into people all the time. We-"

"Hey look, it's Harley Quinn. A nice piece of ass right there," a random criminal called out from his cell.

I know I've got a great ass, but I can also confirm that Harley's got a fantastic bubble butt. _So on that, random thug, we are in agreement_. However, I was surprised to see that I recognized that criminal. We had hooked up once. He paid me, so we were all good, I guess. Always weird seeing a former client, you know? What do you say? Hey, remember that time you were balls deep in me? Anyways, I digress.

"I know," was all Harley replied without stopping. Now, if that had been the end of the conversation, nothing would have happened. But unfortunately for him, the thug pushed his luck.

"I'd tap it good, sweetheart. Let a real man handle you, not that perverted clown."

"I'm good. Not into assholes with small dicks," she replied, somehow making it sound sweet.

"What'd you say to me, bitch?" the thug fired back.

Harley stopped and then backtracked to his cell. It was currently closed, but he was right by the bars. She got right up by him and put her hands on his chest. "Sorry sweetie…" she said as she moved her hands up to his head, as if she was going to pull him in for a kiss. Evidently, the thug thought that as well, as he let his defenses down. But to be fair, I also didn't expect her next move.

She yanked his head forward, slamming his face in the bars, which sent him tumbling back, falling to the ground. "…but Mama's taken," she finished. She then went on her way as if nothing happened.

 _Holy shit, that was unexpected._

"Men," she commented to me with a chuckle. "With tits like yours, I'm sure you get that a lot."

I wasn't really sure what the proper response was to that, so I went with, "It happens." Honestly, as long as they paid, I didn't really mind.

* * *

Not long after, we arrived back at my cellblock. Everyone was gone but Scarecrow, who was patiently sitting in his cell. He stood, with a touch of difficulty, to greet us. I certainly did not expect Harley to run in and give him a hug, but it had been a day of unexpected happenings.

"How are ya doing, Professa?" she asked. "How's your walking?"

I could see in his eyes that he actually was pleased to see her, although his voice did not betray that.

"I'm doing well, Harley. I'm walking just fine. No more cane," he said to her, which provided me with a nugget of new information. "And you?"

"Same old, same old. Mistah J and I are happy!"

"That's…good," was Scarecrow's noticeably curt reply.

"Ya know how he gets when he's scheming," she continued.

"Indeed I do. And I hear he's planning something big," the Scarecrow transitioned.

"Yeah?" she asked suspiciously.

"Harley, I've heard that he's going to stage a breakout."

She shot me a glance. "I don't know where you head that. I can neither confirm or deny nothing," she replied presumptuously.

Scarecrow chuckled. "She's trustworthy."

"You never know. Is she useful?"

"I'm right here!" I exclaimed indignantly.

"Yes, she is of great assistance. I've already been exposing her to the toxin."

 _That's about the highest praise I've ever gotten from him._

Her demeanor instantly changed. "Good! I've been suggesting someone like her for years."

"Yes you have. But Harley, I need to know what's going on," he pressed.

I could easily see Harley's uneasiness as she wrung her hands. "I can't say anything, Professa."

"Harley, I know there's going to be a breakout."

"Then why do ya need me?" she challenged.

"Because I need more details. Date and time."

"Johnny, I can't betray Mistah J's trust. He gets very angry…"

"I know that. But I have to know. It's important." I could sense some urgency in his voice.

"Why?" Harley asked. I was wondering the same thing.

"Because…because…Harley."

"What is it, Professa? Ya know ya can tell me."

He shifted uncomfortably, clearly embarrassed by what his reason was. "Because I don't move as well after…" he trailed off, but we all knew what he was talking about. "I'm not convinced I'll be able to break out on the spot. I need to know so I can physically prepare myself. It'll take me longer to escape," he explained with palpable shame in his voice.

Harley's uncertainty melted away. "Oh, I'm so sorry, Johnny."

"I don't need your pity," he snapped.

"No, no, I know." I had noticed that her squeaky, higher pitched voice normally associated with her had somewhat disappeared, replace by a more normal pitched, sincere voice. "I didn't think of that. Friday. Three days from now. 8:00pm."

The Scarecrow nodded gratefully. "Thank you. It will make things easier for me."

"Of course, Professa. That's what friends are for, right?"

I swear I saw the ghost of a smile on his lips. "Yes. But you better get going."

She sighed. "Right as usual." She leaned in and kissed him on the check. "I'll see ya around?"

"I hope so," he replied.

She then left his cell and started to leave. I followed, wanting to get a word in.

"And Harley?" he called out. "I'll be at the Corn Palace."

She smiled. "Got it."

We left our block, and then I stopped her. "Thank you for your help, Harley. I know he appreciates it."

"Ya know, you're not bad, kid. Take care of him, will ya?" she said to me, locking eyes.

"I will," I replied without thinking.

With that, Harley Quinn sauntered off. I returned to my cellblock and Scarecrow.

"You can't tell anyone the specifics of the breakout. If I find it absolutely necessary, I will inform a member of our cellblock. She's risking a lot and I don't want anything to happen," said Scarecrow.

"Of course," I responded.

I lingered, causing him to ask, "Do you have a question?"

"You've got a soft spot for her. Ivy too."

"That's ridiculous," he immediately snapped.

I nodded my head and backed out of his cell, returning to mine. Crawling onto my bed, I certainly had a lot to think about.

Scarecrow, the master of fear, was apparently not a psycho monster, but a man with real feelings. He was obviously soft on Harley Quinn and clearly had a past with Poison Ivy. Seeing this side of the Scarecrow intrigued me. I knew that I had to make a decision soon on whether I was going to stick it out with Scarecrow. And I had just promised Harley Quinn to stick with him. I mean, it was definitely a step up from being a prostitute, and this work would be by far more interesting. I think I knew what I was going to choose.

* * *

And we're back! Sorry for the really long break in between, but this story is definitely still alive and kicking! Thanks to all readers and reviewers of this work! I'm anticipating seeing a jailbreak next chapter, so stay tuned.

See ya real soon,

The Mustachioed Academic


	7. Slade Wilson

Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to any Batman character in this work. I only own Carmel and any other made up characters throughout the story.

* * *

After what felt like an eternity, Friday finally arrived. It's a strange feeling knowing that a massive prison breakout was going to take place soon. That the place you've recently called home will burst in chaos and that some people probably won't make it through the night. Yet, I had to accept that reality and brace myself. But Scarecrow did his best to prepare me for the upcoming circus.

"All the cell doors will unlock, freeing everyone here. I want you to get up and shut your door immediately. That will keep you the safest," he explained to me.

It was determined that I should not participate in the breakout because I was only a week away from serving out my sentence. That meant I could get out without having to hide from or dodge the police when back in society. _Well, for now._

After returning from lunch on Friday, I found Deathstroke and Killer Moth in Scarecrow's cell, quietly discussing something. Upon noticing my presence, they stopped talking and looked at me before returning to their respective cells as if nothing had happened. _Hm, I wonder what that's all about._

I wandered into Scarecrow's cell. "So what exactly am I to do once I'm out of here?"

"There will be a car waiting for you," he calmly explained in his monotonous voice. "It will take you to my base."

That settled it, then. I was not going back to being a prostitute and was definitely going to work for Scarecrow, although it seemed I didn't have a choice in the matter. I wasn't complaining, really. I hadn't had sex in seven weeks and I did not miss it at all, to be honest. That was one of the nicer parts of my incarceration.

"Well, what about my apartment? And all my stuff? And my car's definitely in the pound by now." I hadn't worried about these things during my time at Arkham, but now I was so close to release that I had to start considering.

He nodded his head. "Indeed." He procured a pencil and some paper. "Write down your address and details about your car. I'll see what I can do."

I had absolutely no idea what that meant, but I could tell that this was not one of those things to press him on. "Okay, thanks."

"And Carmel? Be safe tonight."

"Oh you do care," I mocked.

He averted his glance from me to the floor. "I just…have invested too much in you," he quickly replied.

 _That's about as close to endearing as he could get._

* * *

No matter how much I had prepared for the moment, I was not ready for the breakout, and certainly unprepared for how it started. It was around 10:00 when the intercom went on.

"Hello patients! This is Dr. Joker speaking. After intense consideration, I have decided the best treatment for everyone is some fresh air," the Clown Prince of Crime crowed. "Now go wild and have a good time!"

With that, loud clicks indicated that all of our cell doors were now unlocked and they slid open a bit on their own. Despite the breakout, the lights did not come on, leaving our cellblock fairly dark.

"It's about time!" I heard Killer Moth exclaim. "Now let's blow this popsicle stand."

"W-w-what's going on?" a fearful Kirk asked.

"It's a breakout, Doctor," Deathstroke answered. "Are you planning on escaping?"

"N-No, not me!"

"Then you better shut your cell door, Kirk. That will relock it," I called out to Langstrom. "That's what I'm doing." I got up off my bed and clicked my door shut.

"Thanks, Carmel." I heard another click, indicating that he had followed my advice.

Scarecrow walked up to my cell. "I'll see you in a week. Stay away from the cell door." I could tell that he was tense, undoubtedly about making it out.

"Got it," I responded.

"Let's go, Scarecrow. Gotta beat the rush," Killer Moth said. "See ya around Carmel, babe."

I laughed. "Can't wait, Drury."

"Nice meeting you, Doc," Drury told Langstrom.

"It's been educational," Langstrom replied.

"Good luck with your research," Scarecrow told Kirk. "Let's go Drury." And just like that, Killer Moth and Scarecrow left our cellblock.

I could see Deathstroke sitting in his cell, meditating. "You're not leaving?"

"Nope. Still waiting on a job," he replied without opening his eyes.

That seemed strange to me, because a breakout seemed like the perfect time to find him for a job, as everyone knew exactly where he was. "Fair enough," I replied anyway, shrugging it off.

Then, I heard some loud yelling and a few gunshots. "It has begun," the assassin remarked.

Some thugs came running through our cellblock. "Freedom!" one hulking one yelled on his way through.

That was how it went for a while. Lots of patients and thugs running through, paying no attention to us. _Fine by me._

My thoughts wandered to Dr. Crane, wondering if he was going to make it out. I knew he wasn't very quick, but it seemed like Drury was going to wait for him. It was certainly strange indeed that I found myself caring about him, a confirmed killer and supervillain, but maybe that's what Arkham does to you.

My thoughts were interrupted by another announcement. "Attention: all patients wearing security jumpsuits should be restrained immediately. Preferably permanently," the Joker called out on the intercom, cackling afterwards.

"Kirk, how are you doing?" I called out.

"F-Fine, I guess. Freighted," he called back.

"It's all going to be okay."

"But what if they try to kill me?" he asked, panicked.

I laughed. "Kirk, why would someone in here try to kill you? No one knows who you are."

"Exactly!" he replied fearfully. "Oh God, here come some more."

I was doing much better than Kirk was, as I wasn't feeling really afraid at all. I actually found it interesting to watch everyone run by, a sort of people watching. Yet, that would change when he arrived.

Stepping into view in front of my cell was none other than the Mad Hatter. _Shit, the one guy I didn't want to see._

"Hello, Alice," he began, grinning at me.

I decided to go the "asleep/dead/I don't know what but I was sure as hell not talking to him" route.

"Come on, Alice, I know you're in there. I've come to set you free," he purred.

I was creeped out for sure, but I must say that I wasn't terrified. Clearly, the Hatter had haunted at least one of my hallucinogenic experiences, but I found myself eerily calm. It was then that I realized that all of my exposure to the fear toxin had probably dulled my fear. _I'm glad I'm getting something out of it._

"Alice, come out, don't pout, Alice. Once you come out, we can go play. Oh, do come out, Alice," he whined.

"Fuck you, Hatter. I'm not Alice," I told him.

"I'm waiting, Alice. Don't make me come in there and get you." Suddenly, he reached his hands into my cell, causing me to jerk.

I was already as far back in my cell as possible, but I would have loved to go back even farther.

"I love you Alice, don't you love me?"

For some reason, I decided that I was going to use my pillow as a weapon and beat him until he left. _Here goes nothing_. However, when I reached for my pillow, I felt something underneath it. It was a small, burlap pouch labeled "For Emergencies" in cursive. I grinned devilishly, knowing exactly what the pouch contained. Scarecrow had really come through for me, and I was genuinely touched that he was looking out for my well-being. This was coming from the same guy who seven weeks ago at hardly protected me at all. So much had changed, myself included.

Deciding to take a page out of Harley's playbook, I changed my demeanor. "Oh Hatter, you're my hero! I have a present for you to show my appreciation," I said, trying to put on as seductive of a voice as possible.

"Oh goodie Alice!" He clapped his hands together excitedly, woefully unaware of what I had planned.

I moved up as close as I was willing to get. "Here you go," I said. Immediately, I threw a pinch of the fear toxin in his face.

"Ah, what's this?" he called out as he backed away, rubbing his eyes.

It did not take long for the toxin to take effect. He looked at me, and then started to back away. "No, no, not Alice. She's covered in blood. No no! Noooo!" he screamed. Terrified, he ran off.

I almost felt bad for him. He feared someone killing his Alice, yet in the end, it was he who often killed the girls he styled as Alice. But I did say almost. "Good riddance you creepy bastard," I called out.

* * *

I thought that was the end of my troubles for the night, but I was gravely mistaken. The next hour saw a lot of thugs and patients running through, sometimes the same ones coming through again. Some of the patients clearly needed help and would shriek or growl at my cell as they passed by. But I felt pretty safe in my cell. However, things got bad when a pack of real crazies hit our cellblock.

First off, they were crawling on all fours, which was a bit unsettling to say the least. After tromping through, they came right back, giving me a better look at them. They had blood scattered on them, particularly near the mouth, which indicated to me that they probably taken a chunk out of some poor guard.

But the real problem was they decided to target Kirk. They stayed in front of his cell, growling and yipping, trying to claw their way in. I have no idea why they went for him instead of me, but maybe they sensed his fear.

"Carmel!" he called out. I couldn't exactly see what was happening, but it was clear that they were harassing the good doctor. "Carmel, they're not going away!" he cried out.

"Stay in the back of your cell," I called out.

"I am! Kind of freaking out here!"

"Keep calm Kirk! They can't get to you!"

"But what if they can?! Carmel, I'm not feeling so well!"

I figured that Kirk was having an anxiety attack, but that was only partly the case. "They'll go away soon," I said, trying to calm him down. "Hey, go away you fuckers!" I called out, trying to draw their attention to me.

"I-I don't think so. They're-aah!" he called out in pain.

I ran to my cell door, trying to see what happened. But those creatures were still on the outside, clawing at the bars. "Kirk?"

"Carmel, I c-c-can't," I heard him say.

I heard a couple of loud thuds against the wall. "Kirk?" Then, I heard the most horrific screech I'd ever heard. "Kirk, what's happening?"

Suddenly, I saw the cell door blast out of its spot, taking the creatures with it, crashing against Deathstroke's cell door. The creatures went scrambling away, and then I finally realized what had happened. "Kirk?" I called out one final time. I heard a few more screeches and then it appeared.

Stumbling out of the cell was a hideous creature that can best be described as a human sized bat. Flapping its wings, it turned itself towards my cell, giving me a full look at the Man-Bat.

There was not a trace of Kirk left in this furry beast. Just a gigantic bat that had the remnants of Kirk's clothes on. He was huge and terrifying and all I could do was scream. This was easily the scariest thing I'd ever seen.

That screaming, of course, triggered the Man-Bat's sensitive hearing. It started to ram its body against my cell door. Based on what had happened to Kirk's door, I knew the creature could get in.

 _Oh my God, this is how I die. Eaten by a giant bat._

No fear toxin could have prepped me for this. I started screaming uncontrollably terrified of Man-Bat. Let's just say it was a low point for me and not dwell on it any further.

Suddenly, I saw a body fly in and hit the Man-Bat, tackling it. I realized it was Deathstroke, who started to wrestle with the creature. The two struggled, with the Man-Bat screeching the entire time. Man-Bat got on top, and then, deciding it had had enough, took off down the hallway, flying away.

Deathstroke was left on the floor with a few cuts and bruises, breathing heavily.

"Are you okay?" I asked, breathing heavily myself.

He laughed. "Are you kidding me? That's the most fun I had in months. Just like wrastling a gator."

"Good. I guess the serum was still potent," I numbly stated, still shaking.

"And it was triggered by fear and anxiety. Probably good Crane didn't give him any of the toxin," Deathstroke agreed.

"What's going to happen to him?"

"No idea. But I'm guessing he's going to make it out of here in that form."

My emotions were a wreck. I was still in shock from Man-Bat as well as crestfallen for Kirk. Top off the anxiety this night had given me, and I was worn out.

Deathstroke came in and sat on my bed with me, trying to help me calm down.

"Deathstroke, I…thanks for saving me there."

"Call me Slade. We're at that level, kiddo. And no problem. Just doing my job."

"Your job?" I asked, confused.

"Well, I wasn't exactly truthful earlier. I did get a job today. But it was from Crane. I'm getting paid to make sure that nothing happens to you over the next week until you get out."

This was truly a surprise, although maybe it shouldn't have been at this point. _So that's what they were talking about earlier_. "Really?"

"Hey, I figured it was an easy job, but I didn't think I'd be dealing with giant bats."

"Wait, then why didn't you stop Jervis?"

He chuckled. "I figured you could handle him on your own. And I was right."

I punched him on the shoulder. "You son of a bitch! I could have been hurt," I answered, not really upset, but feigning anger.

He knew it too. "I wasn't going to let that happen. I never fail a mission. Besides, I had a personal investment in this one."

"Is that so?"

"I've enjoyed having you around, Carmel. You brought some life to our otherwise dull cellblock. Gonna miss you kiddo."

Again, I was touched that he thought highly of me. He really did seem like a good guy, although I knew he had a kill count in the hundreds at minimum. "I'm going to miss everyone here too," I said, finally calming down.

"I'll be by to collect from Scarecrow, so I'll see you then. I mean, I like you, but not enough to do the job for free."

"Wow thanks," I sarcastically remarked.

"No problem," he said with a smirk. He got up. "They should be taking control back pretty soon." He started to head back over to his cell.

"Slade?" He stopped. "Thanks again. It means a lot to know you care."

He nodded his head and went back to meditating in his cell.

About ten minutes later, armed guards stormed our cellblock, locking Deathstroke's door, where he was patiently waiting. Not too long after, the intercom announced that the building had been recaptured and that prisoners were being returned to their cells.

All in all, the breakout had lasted about ninety minutes. Yet, hundreds of prisoners had escaped. I would hear that about fifty personnel had lost their lives in the chaos. Neither Scarecrow, Killer Moth, nor Kirk were returned to their cells, so they all had made it apparently.

I went to bed that night more exhausted and drained than any other time that I could remember.

* * *

Hey there everybody! Thanks for checking out the story and hope you enjoy it! With any luck, we'll be leaving Arkham next time.

See ya real soon,

The Mustachioed Academic


	8. Janet

Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to any Batman character in this work. I only own Carmel and any other made up characters throughout the story.

* * *

The next day was rather quiet at the Asylum, as everyone was recovering from the madness that had taken place the night before. As one might imagine, there was an increased security presence all over the facility, but it didn't really matter. After all, most of the most dangerous inmates had escaped last night. Movement was completely restricted for the following four days. We all remained locked in our cells, and food was delivered to us. It was really the first time during my stay that I really felt like I was embodying the stereotype of what being in jail looked like. _Guess it wasn't completely wrong._

The only company I had was Slade, as the others had all left. I had heard nothing about any of them being recaptured, but news traveled slowly with everyone locked up. I saw some thugs that were brought back march by my cell, but no major supervillains.

I must say that I don't remember much about those four days. There wasn't a whole lot to do. I slept a lot, did sit-ups, practiced yoga, masturbated, and lay on my bed, bored. I was pretty sure that time had never moved so slowly before.

It was on Day 5 where we were finally freed from lockdown. "And that's how I re-inflated my own lung while under fire in the Hindu Kush valley," Deathstroke finished. I had heard so many really gruesome, though wildly entertaining, war stories over the last few days from him, let me tell you.

"Attention patients: we are returning to normal operating procedures. Lockdown is over. Cells will be unlocked and all community areas are now reopened," a voice on the intercom boomed. A click then followed, as our cell doors were unlocked.

"Finally!" I exclaimed.

"What, you didn't want to hear more stories?" Deathstroke asked with mock disbelief.

"You're being paid to keep me alive. A few more stories and you might bore me to death," I replied.

He shook his head. "Worst job I've ever taken," he grumbled, although I knew he was being facetious. "Wanna go get some lunch?" he asked me.

"Yes please. I need to see some other humans!"

"Well, you're here at Arkham. A lot of those here are human in the sense of biology only."

* * *

The following day I had lunch with Jenna. For me, the countdown was on, as I was to be released in just two days. On the one hand, I was absolutely thrilled to be out of here. On the other hand…well, I mean I was definitely going to miss Jenna, but even that didn't outweigh me getting out of here, so I guess there was no other hand.

Jenna gave me a folded up piece of paper. "What's this?" I asked.

"It's my phone number. So we'll can still be in contact once we're both out of here," my amber haired friend replied.

"Absolutely! Do you know when you're supposed to get out of here?" I asked her.

"Not for another two months. However, I've got a meeting with Dr. Iverson the day you get out, so I'm hoping he'll have some good news for me."

"I wouldn't see why not. He cut my time down and you've not gotten into any trouble here."

"We can only hope. But you're the lucky one. You don't have to eat this mush anymore!" She picked at the pile of unknown ingredients that was masquerading as today's food to illustrate her point.

I laughed. "Yeah, but I can't imagine that I'm going to be having a feast with Scarecrow either."

She shrugged. "I mean, if you want to trade spots…I'd be glad to…"

"No, no no! Eating ramen with Scarecrow is better than being in here," I quickly exclaimed.

"Exactly. So no complaining!"

"Alright prisoners. This lunch period is over. Proceed back to your cells," a guard called out.

Jenna and I rose from the table. "I'm going to miss you," I told her.

She smiled back at me. "I'm going to miss you too, Carmel." We hugged, knowing that it would likely be quite some time until we saw each other again.

"The sooner we can get back in contact the better. I'll probably be doing some honest work after I get out of here for a while, so we should definitely be able to see each other again," she explained.

"Can't wait!" We then parted for the final time in Arkham Asylum.

* * *

Finally, after seeming like an eternity, my day of freedom arrived. That morning, one of the guards came down to our cellblock and told me that I was to meet with Dr. Iverson at noon and then I was to be released.

As I waited for noon to arrive, my thoughts dwelled to what exactly was going to happen once I stepped outside of Arkham Asylum. Scarecrow had said that someone would be there to pick me up, but I had no idea what that meant. Obviously, I didn't expect Scarecrow to show up in a convertible to whisk me away. Until me, he had never had any assistants, so who would pick me up? _How would they know it was me? Who was I supposed to look for? So many questions, so little time._

The guard soon arrived to escort me out of the cellblock to Dr. Iverson's office. "Thanks, Slade, for everything," I told Deathstroke as I was getting ready to leave.

"No problem, kid. It was good to have you around."

"When am I going to see you next?"

"Well, I need to collect from Scarecrow, so I'll have to swing by his base at some point. You'll probably see me then," the grey-haired assassin offered. We both knew that he had years left on his sentence, but would likely break out within the next week or two. No prison could really hold Deathstroke.

"I look forward to it. See you around," I told him as the guard escorted me away.

"Give my regards to Crane," he called out.

After traveling the maze of the Asylum one more time, I found myself in front of Dr. Iverson's office again. _Here we go._ Of course, I had only seen Dr. Iverson sparingly during my time at the Asylum, but he still gave off a creepy vibe whenever I had to visit. I knew though, that as soon as I finished up with him, I would be released back into society and presumably into the world of the criminal supervillain.

I knocked politely at the door and a gruff "Come in" followed. I entered his office to see it looking exactly as it normally did. Very neat, well put together, structured. Not too many knick-knacks were lying about, organized stacks of paper strategically placed all around. Something austere and sterile, which is pretty much what I expected from Dr. Iverson. _He must be all sorts of fun outside of work._

"Ah yes, Carmel Ocean, you may sit down," he said as he pulled out a folder that presumably contain my file.

I went to the chair facing his office desk and sat down.

"Well, well, well, today is the day, isn't it? The day you are to be released. I hope that in the future we do not see you returning here," he said.

"Well I should certainly hope not. I've had quite an enjoyable time as it is and I wouldn't want to dampen any memories of my fond times here." I shot back, clearly sarcastically.

"Ah, always the sharp wit," he said in reply. He adjusted his glasses and looked down at the file. "Yes, you have been a model citizen here, so it's no surprise that we're letting you out a little bit early. However, I must ask whether you are indeed going to find yourself back here due to an allegiance to a certain Scarecrow."

And this is what I expected he would want to talk about and something I was not particularly thrilled to be discussing with him. He had already made clear that he did not approve of the business relationship that Scarecrow and I were entering into.

"It doesn't matter what I choose to do. As soon as I walk out of here, you have no more power over me. That must be so hard for you," I taunted.

"Ah, that is true, but I must warn you, if you decide to work for Scarecrow, you will inevitably be caught by either law enforcement or the Batman. And although you had a short sentence for your prostitution crimes, the incarceration time from aiding a supervillain is much more serious and will find you in here for a much longer stay."

I was silent, knowing full well that was the case, but not wanting to give off any emotion that he could see.

"Carmel, I beg of you, you must stay away from Scarecrow. It will not end up well for you. You don't know the things he's capable of doing."

There, I interrupted him. "No, actually I'm pretty sure I'm capable of knowing what he can do; I've seen some pretty crazy stuff from him in just my time in here and, well, we both know he's on the outside right now."

Dr. Iverson pursed his lips. "Yes, well, do you have any information on Scarecrow's whereabouts?" He tugged on his mustache in anticipation.

"No I do not," I replied honestly. However, that answer did not seem to be the one he was looking for.

"Is that so? Well, if you plan on working for him, I assume you would know where you're going," he pressed, squinting his eyes at me.

"No, not really. I was just told that he would find me." I didn't want to mention being picked up in case Dr. Iverson had me followed.

"Hmmm…" he frowned. "Well, with any luck, there won't be anyone waiting for you and you'll be able to go back into society away from Scarecrow. Maybe he's forgotten about you, though something tells me that you won't be that lucky," he replied.

I shrugged. At this point I was fairly committed to trying this experiment with Scarecrow so I was fine with being picked up and taken somewhere. "It is what it is," I said, attempting to show an air of indifference towards the doctor.

"Yes," he said. "Very well, Ms. Ocean. I have your clothes here. If you wish, you can head into the bathroom there and change out of your jumpsuit into these…fine pieces of clothing."

I was currently wearing an orange Arkham jumpsuit that I wore a couple days a week. Every three days they would take any clothes we wanted and washed them, giving us the jumpsuit in exchange. I took advantage of this whenever possible as I was not keen on staying in those slutty clothes I arrived in my entire time here. Although the jumpsuit was also very tight fitting around the chest, at least it wasn't as revealing.

"That would be lovely," I said. He handed me my clothes and I wandered into an adjoining bathroom to his office. "There isn't any camera in here, is there? I wouldn't put it past you," I said, stepping back out.

"Of course not. Blondes aren't my type," he replied, shaking his head. "I have far better things to do with my time," he replied, indicating the stacks of papers on his desk.

 _Yep. He's the life of any party._ "Whatever." I entered the bathroom and shut the door. I went ahead and changed out of my prison jumpsuit and back into my short skirt and low cut shirt that I had originally arrived to the Asylum from the Royal Hotel in.

As soon as I exited, Dr. Iverson had a form out for me to sign. "You will just need to sign this release form before you go."

"Of course. Whatever it takes to get out of here!" I signed the paper immediately.

"Excellent Ms. Ocean. I shall have the guard escort you out, but I wish to warn you one more time that Scarecrow is a very dangerous man. Many people are permanently incapacitated from encounters with him. I sincerely hope that doesn't happen to you."

"Oh look, you're concerned about my wellbeing. I'm touched, I really am," I remarked.

"A word of warning is all I can provide. Ms. Ocean, have a good rest of your life. Or, well, until we see you here again." He raised his eyebrow at me, indicating he felt that was the case.

With that, I headed for the door where the guard was waiting. _How much of the conversation had he heard? I guess it doesn't really matter._

"You may take her out now. She's all good to go," Dr. Iverson called out.

I don't know if 'good to go' was the correct phrase, but I knew I was happy to leaving his office and this godforsaken place.

* * *

The guard then led me upwards, up several flights of stairs as we ascended the depths of Arkham Asylum in order to leave. First, we went to a small office where my ankle bracelet was removed. Then, we visited an office where a secretary was waiting.

"This is Carmel Ocean," the guard announced.

"I'll get your things," the secretary replied. She disappeared into the back. Not long after, she arrived, my purse in hand. "There you are, my dear."

I took the purse and checked it out. My phone was in there, the battery likely dead from two months of no use. However, my keys to my car were missing. "I don't see my car keys," I protested.

"Sweetie, that bag's been sitting here ever since you got here. I'm sure they're in there. Probably at the bottom," she patronizingly answered. "You can take her out now."

Not being allowed to further protest, I followed the guard and after passing through a couple more rooms, we exited the building and I saw daylight for the first time in a while.

I saw the famous gate with "Arkham Asylum" written on it, knowing that it was finally time for me to be free.

The guard only walked a little bit of the way and then he stopped. I looked back at him and he merely pointed at the gate. So it was true like every cliché prison thing I had ever seen, I was going to walk out of that gate and then as soon as I was out of the gate, that was the end of that. _How anticlimactic._

Now, I, of course had no clue what was to happen next. Well, I knew that I was about to start my new life as a criminal henchwoman. _Twenty-four years old and already onto my second career._ I had been told that I was to be picked up, but I still had no idea how that was going to happen, so I decided to simply shuffle out of the gate.

However, I was not very far out, when I saw a tan van waiting. The window rolled down and a voice called out, "Miss Ocean!" It was at that moment that I knew Scarecrow had been true to his word and that this was likely my ride.

I wandered over to the vehicle and looked to see a woman driving. "Yes?" I said.

"I have been instructed to deliver you to the Scarecrow immediately, so hop on in, kiddo, and we'll get this show on the road."

Not really having any other choice, I hopped into the vehicle, ready to drive away from Arkham Asylum and hopefully start my new life as a career criminal working for the master of fear himself, the Scarecrow.

After getting into the vehicle, I looked over at the driver to get a better view of her. She had shorter brown hair that was permed, but in a way that looked straight out of the 1980s. In addition, a prominent mole was located near her mouth. Her clothes were frumpy and she looked to be in her late forties. _She could use some fashion advice._ It was I who spoke first.

"So, uh, what's your name?"

"My name is Janet," she said in reply.

"Janet? No last name?" I joked, trying to become more comfortable with this woman.

Janet laughed. "You are certainly new. I don't give out my last name to people like you because I could get in trouble if you ever went back to jail and decided to squeal on me to get a better deal."

"Well, that's fair enough," I said. "So what exactly do you do?"

She did not look at him, but did answer my question. "I have worked in assistance to Dr. Crane for many years now. I take care of his finances and any other legal matters that arise."

"So are you a lawyer or a banker?" I asked.

She laughed. "In truth, a little bit of both. However, my day job is that of a banker at one of the larger banks here in Gotham."

Catching on, I immediately jumped in. "Oh, so you can't tell me your last name, but you can tell me that you work at a big bank and you're name is Janet. I'm sure that if I wanted to I could simply find you out that way."

Janet smiled and chuckled again. "Well, at least you are very perceptive. However, there is no reason to believe that the name Janet is actually my name or simply was the name that I gave you, anticipating this situation."

I nodded, respecting her answer and her intelligence. I no longer felt sorry for her; she clearly had some spunk. I could see why Scarecrow hired her in the first place. "How did you end up with the Scarecrow?" I asked.

Janet sighed. "I've known Dr. Crane for a long time. In fact, I was one of his first graduate students back when he was teaching." She did not continue on, which in no way answered my question, but I could sense that she did not intend to answer any more on that subject.

Proving my point, she changed the topic. "I visited your former apartment. I paid off the rent you missed. Unsurprisingly, you were evicted, but the landlord hadn't taken out your stuff, so I went ahead and packed up all of your things and brought them to Dr. Crane. I also went to the car pound and retrieved your car after paying the necessary fine."

 _Well, there's where my keys went._ "Thanks."

"You are going to be working for Dr. Crane obviously, but that will not be your sole responsibility. In addition to that, you are going to need to have a real job, so you can cover your tracks in case anyone tries to investigate you."

I frowned, not having considered this possibility. _Where was I, a former prostitute and recent released inmate from Arkham Asylum going to get a job here in Gotham City?_ "I suppose always go back to being a prostitute," I offered.

Janet shook her head in disagreement. "No. Neither Dr. Crane nor I think that is a suitable occupation for you to return to. Instead, we have gone ahead and secured you a job at Gotham Casino.

"Really?" I asked. "A casino?"

"Yes. You will be working some weekday nights there. Not only will this provide you additional income in addition to the money Dr. Crane will pay you, but will also ensure that you don't spend all of your days moping around the Corn Palace, as you probably won't be needed by Dr. Crane every single day."

That reasoning made sense to me. After all, if I was Scarecrow's first henchman, he was definitely not used to having one around. "Alright," I said, pleased with her response. I was not aware that Scarecrow would be paying me for my work. I had just assumed that I would be taken care of, but earn no income. "Nice! That's more money than I expected."

"Don't get too excited. You're not gonna get rich quick. No yachts and boob jobs yet."

 _She's sharp and I love it!_ "Of course," I replied, unable to suppress a grin.  
"Can you remind me what the Corn Palace is?"

"The Corn Palace is where I'm driving you to currently. It is the location of one of Dr. Crane's hideouts."

"One of?" I asked.

"Of course," she replied, shooting me a disappointed look. "One has to have many hideouts if the intent is to survive in this city. I will drop you off there and then you will be left in the hands of Dr. Crane. I may or may not check in with you from time to time likely to discuss your financials."

"Sounds good to me," I replied. I had not really been following to see where the van had been taking me, so I wasn't quite exactly sure where we were. But Janet turned on her turn signal, and we turned into an alleyway.

"Here we are," Janet said. "Welcome to the Corn Palace."

* * *

Hey everybody! Don't worry, this story is definitely not cancelled! It's been rather busy as of late, but I'm hoping that I will have more time to write as we move forward. Next time, we'll check out the Corn Palace and see how Carmel settles in. Thanks to all who read/review/fav/follow the story!

See ya real soon,

The Mustachioed Academic


End file.
